


Young Gods

by brittishmenorbust



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Angst, Demisexuality, Drug Use, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hacking, Love, Mild Language, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Trust Issues, demisexual elliot, halsey lyrics, i just love elliot okay, i want him to not feel alone, mild violence, some smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 13:32:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 31,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6521779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brittishmenorbust/pseuds/brittishmenorbust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are Elliot Alderson's next door neighbor. You invite him to hang out one night, and your two lonely souls find peace and comfort in each other. How will your relationship progress?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

You frowned as you lay in your bed staring up at the ceiling. That stain had been there since you’d moved in a few months ago. When you told your friends you were moving to New York, you had let them think it was going to be glamorous and exciting. Instead, you were waitressing at a coffee house you hated, and living in a shitty apartment in a dangerous neighborhood. You were proud of yourself for leaving home. It wasn’t an ideal situation there, and you knew you had to get out. And so you had.

You had the weekend off, and were in no mood to get out of bed anytime soon. It was hot in the apartment. You slept naked most of the time to keep yourself cool. You rolled to the clock and saw it was late morning. Grocery shopping would be a necessary evil today if you wanted to be able to sustain yourself for the week. You groaned and got out of bed, putting on shorts and a tank top. 

After a quick breakfast, you headed out for the day. You did some errands and then shopped for you food. The street you lived on wasn’t so bad during the day. There was enough foot traffic to make you feel like you’d be noticed if you started screaming. At night, however, that was a different story. You had your pepper spray and basic self defense moves, but still, you hated living here and wanted to leave as soon as possible. 

You managed to climb the flight of stairs to your floor and set your bags down to fish your keys out of your purse. You heard footsteps behind you, and your heart lept in your chest. You were going to have to get used to this neighborhood. Hopefully soon every sound wouldn’t make you think you were about to be murdered.

You turned slowly, half expecting to see an ax murderer standing behind you. Instead you saw your neighbor, Elliot. He had his hoodie on, as was his look every time you saw him. He didn’t look at you as he walked slowly to his door. You had only said a few words to him in the entire time you’d lived next door. Still, the walls were thin, and you knew that he cried at least once a week, that he talked to himself sometimes, and that he was on the computer until very late in the evenings.

You were lonely, and you knew it. Living in a new city with no friends was tiring and isolating. Your mouth spewed words before you gave permission.

“Hi, Elliot,” you greeted warmly. 

His shoulders tensed, and he waited, facing his door, for a moment before turning to see you.

“Hey,” he said casually.

His eyes were heavy, like he was under a lot of stress. He fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable, but you couldn’t help yourself. Now that you’d tasted human interaction, you wanted more of it, even if your fellow participant seemingly wanted none of it.

He went to reach for his door, and you almost yelled more words at him, not wanting him to leave.

“How are you?” You asked. 

He seemed confused that you would ask such a mundane question.

“Fine,” he said. 

Silence.

“How are you?” He asked finally, as if he had just remembered the etiquette of being a human being.

“Um, I’m alright,” you said. You glanced down at your groceries that really needed to go in the fridge soon. 

He turned again to enter his apartment, but you didn’t want him to leave. It wasn’t that he was cute, or that you wanted to know what was going on behind those brown eyes, it was that you were exceedingly lonely, and didn’t want to go back into your place by yourself.

“Hey, I was wondering,” you said, not knowing if he’d go for this or not, “If you wanted to hang out later?” You asked, biting your lip as you tried to hide your inner turmoil. “My friend from Vermont stopped by recently and left me some pot, if you wanted to just chill maybe?” You asked. 

You didn’t know if Elliot did drugs, but you guessed if he were in this neighborhood, he might want an escape as badly as you did. Not that you did anything more than a little pot now and then. He looked at you for a moment as if he were calculating something.

“I have plans,” he said in a monotone voice.

“Oh,” you said, dejected. 

His lips formed a small line and he seemed to being thinking intensely. 

“Maybe another ti-”

“Actually, yeah,” he said suddenly, looking at you in the eyes at last. “Yeah.”

Your spirits lifted as quickly as they had fallen, and a smile spread across your face.

“Cool,” you said. There was a moment of awkward silence. “Do you want to come over, or should I just bring the stuff over to your place?” You asked, wondering where he’d feel the most comfortable.

He debated for a moment before answering. It seemed like there was some kind of conversation going on in his head before everything he said. 

“Come over,” he said simply. “At eight?” He asked.

You nodded, unable to wipe the smile off your face. Finally, you wouldn’t be alone at night.

“Sounds good,” you said, picking up your bags. He nodded and slipped into his apartment.

After he closed the door, you walked into yours, gently closing the door behind you as you went to unpack your purchases.

It was only around three in the afternoon, and you had a lot of time to kill before going over to Elliot’s. You wondered what his apartment would be like. You didn’t even know what he did for a living, or anything about him really. You wondered if this were such a good idea after all. He wasn’t exactly the most talkative person. Would he be able to alleviate your loneliness? Still, there was something about him that drew you to him. 

You watched some Youtube videos after you finished putting things away to try to kill time. Then you researched some recipes to make for dinner, followed by mindless Facebook scrolling, and Tumblr.

Somehow, you managed to waste time until eight. You stood at your door with the pot and a few snacks, waiting to be fashionably late to Elliot’s. After five minutes of debating how long was too long to wait, you just went across the hall and knocked.

There was music coming from inside, and you heard it click off before soft footsteps came to the door. There was a pause as he got to the door, too long to just be checking through the peephole, and then the door opened.

“I come bearing gifts,” you teased, handing him a few bags of chips and showing him the bowl and the weed.

The corners of his lips twitched upwards, but he didn’t smile or say anything. He merely sidestepped, and allowed you to enter his apartment.

You laid the supplies down on his kitchen table. There were two chairs around it, but not much else. An old looking microwave sat on top of an even older looking fridge. The kitchen was sparse to say the least. There seemed to be only a bathroom and a bedroom/living room combo beyond it. You saw a bookshelf with a few books and records on it, a simple bed, and a few lights. A computer sat on the edge of the room in front of a window. It seemed to be the most cared for area. Everything was neatly placed and it looked fairly expensive.

After looking around the apartment, you turned to Elliot who was watching you as if you intended to steal something from him.

“Cool place,” you tried.

He seemed to relax at your words, as his shoulders returned from their tensed position. There was another silence. It wasn’t exactly awkward, he seemed completely at home with it actually, but you still felt the need to fill it for some reason.

“So, uh, should we get going then?” You gesture to the drug on the table.

You weren’t exactly well versed in sharing your weed with other people. It felt weird, like you were about to start a presentation or something. Again the corner of his mouth twitched upwards, but he didn’t quite smile. He grabbed the bowl, loaded it, and grabbed a lighter from his pocket to take a puff. You watched as he breathed in. He had done this before. He held his breath and closed his eyes, tilting his head backwards just the slightest bit to expose his throat. When he returned his face straight ahead, he opened his eyes slowly and exhaled, expelling a small amount of smoke out of his mouth. He looked like a model in that moment. It looked as though he were posing for some shoot, and you had forgotten your camera. In that moment, for some reason, maybe it was the way he moved, or the way his lips shifted to expel the smoke, or that look in his eyes as if he could see into you, you felt a little crack form in the layer of loneliness. 

He waited a moment and then passed the bowl to you. You took a hit as well, and tried to mimic his careless ease. He watched you for a moment before grabbing a bag of chips. He walked over to his bed and sat down, facing you. An unspoken invitation to join him. For a while there was silence. It wasn’t uneasy anymore, at least for you. You didn’t say anything. You took a hit and passed it off to him until you’d run out, and were sufficiently high and happy.

You laid down on bed. You had thus far just been sitting, facing each other. You’d kicked off your shoes and laid down on your back, staring up at his ceiling. There was no mysterious stain here. You let your mind wander for a moment before looking at Elliot. 

He was still sitting up and staring at you. You caught him looking at your body for a moment before his eyes snapped to yours. There was no shame there, no embarrassment that he had just been blatantly checking you out. Instead, there was that steady gaze that you had somehow become accustomed to in the short time you’d been here.

You quirked an eyebrow at him, but he didn’t move.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked.

He immediately lowered his eyes to the bed, and a small blush came to his cheeks.

“Nothing,” he said softly. 

He slowly laid down on his back next to you, staring up at the ceiling. 

“Want to know what I’m thinking?” You asked.

He turned his head to look at you. Seeing him like that, on a bed, inches from your face, made you want to kiss him. He didn’t say anything, but nodded. 

“I’m thinking we should put some music on,” you said, pulling out your phone and opening Spotify.

You tuned it to your usual playlist, and a song by Halsey came on. 

_ He says, "Oh, baby girl, you know we're gonna be legends _

_ I'm the king and you're the queen and we will stumble through heaven _

_ If there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes _

_ I know you wanna go to heaven but you're human tonight. _

The song played from your phone. 

You closed your eyes and listened for a moment before you felt yourself getting up and swaying to it. It wasn’t exactly a slow song, but it wasn’t one to really dance to either. You just felt like getting up and swaying. When you opened your eyes, Elliot was sitting up, watching you carefully.

You extended your hand to him and he waited a second, weighing something in his head before he took your hand. You pulled him up while turning around, bringing him close behind you. 

_ But do you feel like a young God? _

_ You know the two of us are just young gods _

_ And we'll be flying through the streets with the people underneath _

_ And they're running, running, running _

His hips pressed against yours and you brought his hand down to your waist. Lifting your arms, your shirt had risen up, exposing a small amount of skin between your shirt and shorts. You let him place his hands on that skin and hold your hips against his. At first he felt hesitant, his grip loose, but as you continued to sway, and leaned your head back against his shoulder, he held on tighter. The world was a delightful swirl of touch and sound.

You could smell him too. He had a sort of musky scent that was extremely arousing. You lolled your head back as you ground your hips into his, slowly swaying with the beat.

_ He says "Oh, baby girl, don't get cut on my edges _

_ I'm the king of everything and oh, my tongue is a weapon _

Closing your eyes, you felt his lips brush against your neck, sending goosebumps to the area. You let out an involuntary sound that you hoped would encourage him to continue. He waited a moment, but pressed his lips to your skin again, still holding onto your hips as you swayed. You turned around to face him and his hands ran along your back until you turned completely, coming to rest on your hips. You leaned back to look at him. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his large eyes staring into you. You moved your hands to his neck and just stayed like that, staring at each other.

Perhaps it was the weed, but something passed between you then. You couldn’t have said more than fifty words to each other this evening, and yet you felt connected to him somehow. The song ended, and the room was silent. Elliot’s hands left your hips and he backed away, blinking. It seemed as though the song had put you both in some kind of trance, and you stepped back too, realizing what had happened. You had been very close, almost intimate even, with a man you barely knew. Cautionary thoughts did not lessen your desire to be near to him, to feel his hands on your skin again, but it did hold you to the spot you stood now, a few feet away from him.

Your playlist finally changed songs, and you sat down on the bed again, blushing. Elliot sat down next to you, leaving about a foot of distance between you. The music played for a moment, and then Elliot’s voice sounded, nearly inaudibly above it.

“I don’t know how to talk to people,” he said softly, almost to himself. 

You glanced at him, and he brought his eyes to meet yours. You gave him a smile.

“You’re talking right now,” you pointed out.

He kept staring at you, trying to think of how he wanted to say something. 

“This isn’t talking,” he said, lowering his gaze. “Not how normal people do it.”

Your heart lurched a little in your chest. Why did he think he was abnormal? Quiet, sure, but you didn’t find anything strange about him.

“How do normal people do it then?” You asked. 

You pulled your feet under yourself to sit cross legged, and looked at him.

His eyes searched the room, his mouth opening slightly as the considered your question.

“They say what they feel,” he said.

“Hardly,” you laughed. He almost smiled.

“They communicate,” he amended. “I can’t… It’s like there’s a flaw in my code,” he said. “I can’t… connect to people like I should.”

You saw his eyes searching the space between you, trying to find the words to communicate. It seemed like he was trying so hard to connect to you right now, and you wanted nothing more than to listen and understand him.

“What are you feeling right now?” You tried.

He shook his head.

“I don’t know,” he said. 

You could tell he was lying, but you didn’t press it. Maybe he had trust issues, maybe he had a good reason for them too.

“I never asked what you do for work,” you realized.

“I’m a tech at Allsafe Cyber Security,” he said.

“Do you like it?” You asked.

He shrugged. 

“It’s a job.”

“And what do you do when you’re not working?” You asked.

His gaze snapped to yours and searched your face for something. For a moment he seemed tense, but he soon relaxed.

“Nothing,” he said, laying back down on the bed.

You watched as he stretched out, his arms above his head, pulling his shirt up just an inch or two. He sighed and folded his hands behind his head. 

“What do you do?” He asked suddenly.

Enough time had passed for you to almost forget that it was still the same conversation from a few minutes ago.

“Oh, I waitress at the coffee shop down the street,” you answered. 

Here you were with your minimum wage job, while he had some fancy security gig. You felt embarrassed, but he just nodded. 

“It’s a job, right?” He recited your words from earlier.

You nodded, laying on your back again next to him.

“Sometimes I wish money didn’t exist. That we could just purge the whole system and start again,” he said. 

“A fresh start,” you commented. He nodded.

You looked at him again. You had laid down fairly close to him, but you weren’t touching. You felt your eyes grow heavy and you curled up next to him, just barely brushing against him.

You fell asleep. 

When you woke, it was still dark, but something had changed. Although you had fallen asleep  _ next _ to Elliot, you were now partially resting  _ on _ him. Your head and hand rested on his chest. He was still asleep, his arm wrapped around you, cradling you.

You didn’t know how this happened, whether he was awake when he had moved to this position, or if you had both migrated to it in your sleep, your unconscious bodies seeking warmth. 

Not wanting to wake him, but also not wanting to intrude on him, you slipped out of his arms and out the bed. He moaned in his sleep and rolled over, making you pause for a moment before sliding on your shoes. You looked around the kitchen and found a scrap of paper and a pen. You scribbled a note and left it by the bed.

_ Had a great time last night, didn’t want to impose by staying over. Text me. _

You wrote your number and slipped out of the apartment as quietly as you could. 

It was around three in the morning, and you collapsed in your own bed. As much as sleeping next to someone felt good, you didn’t want to impose, and you didn’t want to rush anything that you and Elliot might not be ready for, especially if he had trust issues.

You fell asleep, dreaming about him holding you, and woke up alone again as usual.


	2. Chapter 2

When you woke up and checked your phone, you found you were more disappointed than you’d expected. When you’d left your number on Elliot’s table last night, you thought he’d text you so you’d have his number as well. Frowning, you tried to convince yourself that he either hadn’t seen the note, or hadn’t woken up yet.

Thinking back to the previous evening, you smiled. No, it hadn’t been candlelight and fine dining, but it had been… authentic. That’s the word you would use. Being with Elliot made you feel authentic, like you could just be yourself.

He hadn’t said much, but what he had said was real. Most conversations you had these days were with customers or creepy dudes on the street. They consisted of either misogyny or weather observations. Elliot didn’t say anything false or shallow… And the way he made you feel when he was near you…

Leaving your phone in your bedroom so you wouldn’t constantly check it, you walked into the kitchen and made some breakfast. You were starving, and treated yourself to some pancakes. You didn’t have work today, and were glad to have the day to relax and gather your thoughts on what to do about Elliot.

Sitting at your kitchen table, you heard his door open and shut, followed by rapid footsteps down the stairs and outside. You almost got up and ran after him before realizing that would be a crazy, creepy thing to do. You couldn’t stop yourself from running to check your phone now that you knew he was up, but to your chagrin, there was no message.

Maybe he hadn’t enjoyed himself as much as you had. Had you imagined his lips on your neck? Had you dreamed the way his hands grabbed your hips? Perhaps. Perhaps he wasn’t into you. Maybe you pushed too hard and he didn’t like it. Still, the way he’d looked at you, the things he had said, felt intimate and special. Maybe he just needed time.

Your Sunday passed too quickly for your liking, and soon you were getting ready for work on Monday morning. You dressed in your usual jeans and the coffee house t-shirt, did your hair and makeup, and headed out the door. 

Stepping out into the hallway, you froze. Elliot had just locked his door and turned to you.

“Hi,” you offered weakly. 

He pulled up the hood of his jacket and his shoulders slumped forward, his eyes drifting down to the floor. He waited a moment before returning your greeting, and then immediately speed walking to the stairs.

Your heart fell. He didn’t wait for you to walk out together. In fact, he basically ran away. You scolded yourself for being so affected. You had only had one date, if you could even call it that. It wasn’t as though he didn’t have a right to act this way towards you. He didn’t owe you anything.

You fought the sting of rejection as you made your way to work, walking the paths that seemed nearly harmless in the morning, but would soon turn treacherous at night. 

Work was its usual mindless, dull routine, but at least you got a few good tips. They were from men who ogled you like you would ogle a cheesecake, but still, it was money. When your shift was over, it was still light out, but growing darker by the minute. Sighing, and keeping your phone in one hand, pepper spray in the other, you made for the usual trek home. Although you’d been living in this neighborhood for a few months, the fear and paranoia hadn’t gone away. Every time you walked home after a later shift, you felt like there was a 70% chance of being murdered.

As you neared your apartment, you sighed. You weren’t mad at yourself for being alert, but you always seemed to work yourself up just a little too much, and that stress wasn’t good for anything.

As you were fishing your keys out of your pocket, you heard a grumbling voice behind you. Turning, you saw it was one of the men that had left you that hefty tip earlier in the day. Had he waited and followed you all this way home? You gaped at him as he walked towards you. He was handsome, in a preppy-boy kind of way. You wondered what a guy with his kind of money was doing down here.

“Hey,” he said, trying to sound smooth. “Weren’t you my waitress today?” As if he didn’t know that. As if he hadn’t followed you all the way home. 

Your skin turned cold despite the heat of the night, and you felt blood rushing in your head. You fumbled with your keys, you just had to get inside. Still, you felt like you were being stalked by a panther, and if you turned to run, he’d charge, sinking his dagger-like teeth into your neck.

You still had your pepper spray in your other hand, and you gripped it, getting ready to use whatever means necessary to dispel this prick.

“What’s your name, beautiful?” He asked, stepping towards you. You shivered. He sounded calm, nice even, but you could see it in his body language, his eyes. He was anything but nice.

“I have to go,” you said weakly, taking a slow step towards your apartment. 

You glanced towards the door, and felt the man’s hand grab your arm. 

“But we’ve not been introduced,” he said, a fake smile plastered on his face. His grinning teeth reminded you of The Joker in older Batman comics.

His hold on your arm was too tight, and you could already tell it’d leave a bruise. You were about to pull out your pepper spray when you heard a familiar voice behind you.

“Hey, man,” Elliot said, stepping up beside you. 

Elliot was at least a head shorter than this man, but he held his ground, glaring at him in a way that was almost disturbing. The man loosened his grip a little, but not enough to slip out of.

“Mind your business,” the man said, glaring right back.

“I am,” Elliot returned.

He slipped the hood of his jacket off his head, and stepped forward. Something in his demeanor or expression made the man drop your arm and take a step back. Elliot was in front of you now, so you didn’t know what kind of impression was so terrifying, but you were grateful for it.

The man looked around Elliot, who was now blocking his path to you. He glared at you, and then at Elliot, and turned.

“Whatever,” he muttered before storming off.

It took a few moments to return your heartbeat to its normal rhythm, or at least a steadier version of it. Elliot turned to face you. You had half expected him to just go inside and leave you out there, but he didn’t. He laid his hand tentatively on your arm. It was a calculated move, like he was imitating something he’d seen others do before. It was then that you realized you were shaking.

You nodded your thanks, but didn’t trust your voice to say anything without breaking. Elliot stared at you a moment, decided something, and then removed his hand. He opened the door to your building and held it as you walked inside. You walked upstairs silently. Once on your floor, you felt him hesitate. He could have gone right in without saying another word, but he waited, watching you fumble with your keys, your hands still shaking.

“You’re still scared?” He observed.

“No,” you shook your head, trying to convince yourself.

Although you’d had similar encounters, usually you just kept walking and they gave up. You’d never had someone  _ follow  _ you, and the thought that he might try again… that was what scared you.

Elliot frowned, unconvinced. 

“I can find out who he was,” he said casually.

You quirked an eyebrow.

“How?” You asked. 

“The pin he wore on his jacket is the symbol of a smoking room downtown. All their members have to register online at their website,” he explained, as if it had been as simple as a name tag. “Shouldn’t take long to track him down.”

You felt your mouth dropping open, and tried to keep it shut.

“Y-you don’t have to do that,” you said, realizing your mouth was dry.

He blinked as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. 

“It’s no problem,” he said evenly.

You waited a moment. It felt like one of you should say something more. There was a space between you, filling with everything you wanted to say, questions you wanted to ask, answers you didn’t think you wanted to hear. He turned and put his key in his lock, but didn’t turn it.

“Do you want to come in?” He asked quietly, his voice barely audible as he spoke against his door.

You looked down at your coffee house uniform, and frowned. You definitely didn’t want to be alone, but neither did you want to be in your work clothes.

“Do you want to come over to mine?” You asked instead. “I just wanted to change out of my work clothes.”

He looked like he might say something, but instead he opened his door, and slipped inside, leaving the door open. You thought that he had rejected your offer, but he returned with a laptop a moment later, locked his door behind him, and looked at you expectantly.

“For the douche bag,” he said, motioning to his laptop.

You chuckled and opened the door, leading him into your messy apartment. He glanced around, and you had the distinct feeling he was learning more about you from your stuff than you’d like. He set his laptop down at the kitchen table and set to work. You walked to your bedroom and looked at your clothes. Although you rarely dressed for anyone else, something about him made you want to impress him, to draw his eyes towards you. You would have done anything to get that man from the coffee shop’s eyes off of you, but here you were, deliberately trying to draw Elliot’s eyes to your curves. You wanted to feel his skin on your skin again. You wanted to have his scent around you, to look into those dark eyes and try to figure him out.

Deciding on a tank top with a low neckline and shorts, you exited the room. Elliot had his hood up, despite the heat, making him look a little like the emperor from Star Wars. His gaze didn’t leave the screen as you walked into the kitchen. 

“Can I get you anything?” You asked sweetly. 

That got his attention, and he looked up, and then down, and then up again, running his eyes over the lines of your body.

You smirked, having gotten the response you wanted. His eyes widened slightly and his tongue darted out to wet his lower lip. He shifted slightly in his seat and shook his head, lowering his eyes back down to the screen. A small victory.

You got yourself a glass of water and sat down in the chair next to his, trying not to peek at whatever he was working on.

“Any luck?” You asked, after a few minutes.

“He’s a lawyer at his father’s firm, subscribes to five different porn sites, is currently cheating on his fiance with at least two other women, and has the interest of the IRS for tax evasion,” Elliot said simply, looking up again from the screen to see your impressed countenance.

“How -- You -- You’ve only been looking for like two minutes,” you gaped.

He looked embarrassed and closed the laptop.

“It’s sort of my job,” he shrugged. “I’ll send him an email later with pictures of him and his mistresses. He won’t bother you after that. Not if he values his relationship with his fiance.”

It dawned on you that this information was most definitely not obtained legally, and Elliot was offering to blackmail this man for you. It also occurred to you that you didn’t care. You felt safer because of it.

“That’s amazing,” you said, taking a sip of water. You had stopped shaking. “Thank you,” you added sincerely.

Elliot shrugged, turning his head away from you so you only saw his hood.

You bit your lip, wondering if you should ask, but not being able not to.

“Did you, um, see my note?” You fidgeted. “I left my number, I thought you’d--”

“Oh,” Elliot said. He seemed to be fighting himself as he said, “I didn’t really think you’d want…”

He trailed off. Did he think you left your number by mistake or something? Maybe he thought it was just the drugs, that you wouldn’t want him when you were sober.

“Hey,” you said, resting your hand on his arm. He flinched, but didn’t pull away. “I left that for a reason. I wanted you to have my number.”

Elliot turned his wide eyes to yours. Feeling bold, you slid your hand down his arm and tentatively took his hand in yours, lacing your fingers together with his. His skin was warm and welcoming. He slid his hood off with his free hand and just stared at you, like he was trying to decide if you were real or not. He hadn’t flinched like when you’d touched his arm. Instead, his hand squeezed yours lightly, appreciatively. You wondered if he was as starved for touch as you were.

Your stomach broke the comfortable silence by growling, reminding you that you hadn’t eaten dinner yet. You chuckled.

“Hungry?” You asked. “‘Cause I am.”

He gave a small smile, the most you’d seen of a happy expression on him, and nodded. Regretfully, you let go of his hand to stand and check what you had for food. You heard his chair slide out and he stood, stepping up behind you. He didn’t touch you, but he was there, close enough for you to feel his breath on your neck, to want to lean back into him and feel his body against yours again.

You felt giddy at his nearness, and wondered if you’d suddenly regressed back to a middle school sense of maturity.

You weren’t even paying attention to what you were looking at, you were so distracted by his closeness. 

“We could make omelettes,” you heard him say. 

You almost shivered. He had said the words in just above a whisper.

“Sure,” you said, leaning over to grab the eggs and some vegetables. 

You gathered the materials while he leaned against the counter, watching you. 

“Do you cook often?” He asked. 

There was something about Elliot in moments like these when you felt he was doing it out of obligation, like a child who’d been instructed to interact with his parent’s friends. You liked the open, honest Elliot.

“Yeah,” you answered. “When I can. Do you?”

He shook his head. You finished the omelettes and put them on plates. You ate in silence for a few moments, before you decided to ask.

“You know you don’t have to do that with me right?” You asked. “You don’t have to ask questions or say things just because you think you’re supposed to.”

You barely met his eyes. You weren’t sure that you were right in your assessment, and didn’t want to offend him or make it seem like you were patronizing him.

His eyes flickered with something you didn’t recognize, and he looked at you closely.

“What do you mean?” He asked. 

You bit your lip for a moment, trying to put it in words that made sense.

“I know that we’ve only spent a little time together, but I can tell you’re not like other people.”

He almost flinched, and you quickly amended your statement.

“I meant that in a good way,” you said. He didn’t relax. “I mean… I deal with so many people, strangers, and they’re all so fake. Sometimes they’re okay, but mostly they say things they don’t mean and ask meaningless questions. But you don’t, or didn’t, at least… And I like that about you.”

Elliot took a breath and let it out, considering this. 

“I told you, I don’t know how to talk to people,” he said. “My dad was the only one I could talk to. But he died.”

Simultaneous feelings erupted inside you: relief that he hadn’t gotten angry at your assessment of him, glad that he opened up to you, and sad that he had lost his father.”

“I’m sorry,” was all you could say. “That sounds dumb, I know. But I’ve lost people too, I get it,” you said. 

He nodded. 

“Has it been a long time?” You asked. 

“He died when I was a kid,” he answered. “Leukemia.”

“That’s rough,” you replied.

He didn’t seem to be listening anymore, and seemed lost in whatever memories had come with the mention of his father. 

“Elliot?” You tried after he remained in this trance-like state for a while.

He turned his head to you, and blinked, as if he just realized he was somewhere other than wherever he had been in his mind.

His eyes were heavy, sadness written all over them. You gently slid your hand into his again, and he took it. 

He muttered something that sounded like “maze,” but you didn’t ask for clarification. You were thinking about him, about how you’d heard him in his apartment, crying, sobbing, almost every week. You didn’t want this person, this nice, sensitive person in front of you to feel so alone. Selfishly, you didn’t want to be alone either.

Although you weren’t ready for him to  _ spend the night _ , the thought of sleeping alone in your bed tonight, both after what had happened, and after knowing what it felt like to sleep next to him, you did want him to spend the night. You wanted to feel another body close to yours, to know that you weren’t alone.

It was already late, the sun had set a while ago, and you felt the wear of the day finally taking its toll.

Not wanting to send the wrong impression, but still wanting him to stay, you tried to ask for what you wanted.

“Hey, um, do you think you’d maybe want to stay over?” You asked sheepishly. “Not like  _ that, _ ” you promised, “But just like… stay over?”

You peeked up through your lashes to see a small smile on his lips. It looked foreign there, where usually only a slight hint of amusement would be.

“Sure,” he said, his eyes lighter than they had been a few moments before.

You sighed with relief, not realizing until after he had answered, how much you wanted this.

“Cool,” you said, almost laughing.

There was a silence as you realized you probably should go to the bedroom. Despite your preface that nothing would be happening tonight, it still felt strangely intimate. You glanced at your interlaced hands, and smiled. You got up and led him to the bedroom, pulling him along by his hand.

He followed, and once you were in your room, you dropped his hand in favor of moving a few things around and trying to hastily clean up your messy room. You felt his eyes on you as you moved around, bending over this way and that to clean stuff up. You had your hands on a pair of jeans on the floor and turned your face to him, still bending over. As you’d expected, he was checking you out. 

“Enjoying the view?” You quipped. 

Elliot smirked and flipped his hood back on, moving to the edge of the bed to sit down. You finished your haphazard cleaning and fell on your bed, staring up at that ceiling stain. 

You looked at Elliot’s back, his hood up, unmoving. You wondered if he wore that hoodie as a protection between his mind and the outside world. What didn’t he want to get in? What didn’t he want to get out?

You simply watched him as you nestled into your bed. It was hot, and just as you were wondering how he wasn’t dying of heat, you heard him unzip his sweatshirt, and take it off, placing it carefully on the floor like the body of a fallen friend.

He was wearing a simple black t-shirt underneath. He slipped his shoes off, followed by socks, and slid backwards, closer to you, on your left. He wasn’t particularly muscular, but nor was skinny. You longed to reach out and touch his light brown skin, but stopped yourself.

Once again you found yourselves laying on your backs staring up at the ceiling. Without looking, your hand searched for his, and, finding it, twined easily with it, as if you’d been doing that your whole life.

“I like being with you,” he said softly, still gazing at the stain on your ceiling.

You felt heat rush to your cheeks. You knew he wasn’t saying that because he thought that’s what people said to each other. He was saying it because he genuinely felt it.

“I like being with you,” you blushed. “Can I ask you a question? It might sound shallow, but I do actually care… how did you get into all this cyber stuff, hacking and whatnot?”

Elliot swallowed, and licked his lips, thinking about it.

“I remember when I was a kid I got into web design by ripping off sites I liked. All you had to do was view source on your browser and there it was. The code. And I couldn’t do that with people, really, so it felt good to do it with code. It felt good to understand  _ something. _ ”

You smiled, thinking of a young Elliot at the dawn of the Internet Age; then you frowned, feeling hopelessly sorry for the young boy who didn’t feel he understood anyone.

The light had gone from the sky, leaving you with only light from the kitchen that flowed into the bedroom. You could make out Elliot’s form, but couldn’t see the details of his features.

“I understand that,” you said, turning on your side to face him. “I used to write short stories. It was a fun way to play God,” you smiled. “Gives you a sense of control.”

He nodded. You thought about the crying you heard all those past weeks, and bit your lip.

“Can be lonely, though,” you said carefully. “Playing God.”

He rolled on his side to face you, his face a mask of neutrality.

“Are you lonely?” He asked.

You nodded. You had admitted it to yourself, of course. Months of living on your own with no real friends around. Of course you were, but you’d never said it outloud to anyone, and doing so made it more real. But it also made that feeling in your gut shift and lessen a little.

You nestled closer to him, bringing your face a few inches away from his. Elliot’s left hand glided slowly to your hip and rested there. He didn’t pull you closer, or push you away, he just… touched you. In the dim light you could see his eyes watching, analyzing you. You moved your hand to his face, watching him closely to see if he seemed uncomfortable. When he showed no resistance, you traced your finger along his jawline and came to his lips. You ran your fingers over them, feeling their soft texture. You felt his breath on your finger as he breathed out slowly. You unconsciously moved your hips towards him, his hand guiding you. 

He was so close to you right now. It wasn’t quite like the other night where he was just a mixture of sounds and sensations. You were sober right now. All you focused on was the hitch in your breath as he whispered your name, the smell of him, the feel of his lips against your finger.

You leaned in slowly, watching him for any sign that he didn’t want this as badly as you did. Finding none, you kissed him. It was gentle, like wind on a petal. You thought once you’d kissed him, you’d want more. And, in a way, you did, but not as you’d anticipated.

After feeling his lips on yours, tasting him, you pulled away. It hadn’t ignited things like you thought it might. Instead, it felt like a relief. It felt like you’d had a gaping wound, and had finally stopped the bleeding. 

You held his face in your hand for a moment, keeping your lips less than an inch from his as you smiled. He didn’t kiss you again, and you wondered if he were experiencing the same sensation as you.

Realizing you were still in your clothes from the day, you sat up slowly, slipping off the bed, and grabbing a large sleeping shirt from the floor. You felt his eyes on your back as you slid off your tank top and took of your bra. You kept your back to him - you were at least this modest with him - and pulled the large shirt over yourself. The loose fabric felt much better on your skin, and you slid your shorts off to join your tank top on the floor. This was your usual sleeping ensemble, and you saw no reason to change it because of Elliot. You didn’t feel like he would mind, or take it as any indication that you’d changed your mind about the night’s activities. You felt the bed move and saw that he had shed his shirt and pants as well, leaving only his dark colored boxers on. He had followed your lead, getting ready to sleep just as you were. You turned off the light in the kitchen before coming back to the bedroom.

It was hard to see him in the dark, but you migrated back over to him so you didn’t have to squint from far away to make out the details. It was as if you’d laid beside him a hundred times. He moved his body to cradle yours as you turned your back to him, letting him spoon you. You sighed, feeling that relief that the kiss had brought again as he pulled you close to him. You could feel the warmth of his chest through your thin night shirt. Your legs tangled in his and he wrapped his arm around your middle. You slid your arm on top of his and traced light patterns on his skin. You felt his warm breath on your neck and snuggled back into him.

It was the safest you had felt since moving here. That feeling of not only complete safety, but also contentment, was something you hadn’t realized you had missed so much. You never wanted him to let you go. 

You didn’t bother setting an alarm for the morning, knowing your shift didn’t start until around noon. He didn’t mention anything either, and you wondered if he cared about his job, or if he simply didn’t need an alarm.

The room had cooled down considerably once the sun had set, and you were grateful for Elliot’s warmth beside you. The last thing you remembered was a soft kiss on your neck, before you fell into a peaceful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you're enjoying it so far! just a heads up, I don't have a set plan for this yet, so it's basically just gonna be ups and down of a relationship until I figure out if I want to use any of the overarching plots of the show!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> minor blood/gore in this chapter (an injury)

You woke up to faint sounds coming through the thin walls from the hallway. Shifting slightly, you felt Elliot behind you. His arm was wrapped tightly around you, his face burrowed in your neck. You felt his breath come slowly and softly, and smiled.

Your mind flashed back to his lips on yours; that careful, tender moment you had shared together. You longed to look into those deep brown eyes in the morning sunlight. Through your daydreams, you heard the sound that had woken you. Someone was banging on the door across the hall. Elliot’s door. He was still sound asleep. You looked at the clock and saw it was almost ten in the morning. 

“Elliot, open up!” You heard the female voice say as she continued to knock.

Part of you didn’t want to wake Elliot. You wanted to ignore that woman and stay in bed forever. Another part of you wondered if maybe she was his mother, or another relative with important news. Sighing, you shifted, turning around and moving enough that he inhaled quickly, waking up.

Watching his eyes open, blink several times, and settle on you, was already the highlight of your day. His lips curled into a soft smile as he watched you.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice heavy with sleep.

You smiled and ran your hand along his cheek.

“Morning,” you said. “I think someone’s looking for you,” you added.

Again, the female voice sounded from the hallway. Elliot sighed and looked up. 

“You should probably go see her,” you suggested. “She’s been out there for at least a few minutes.”

“I guess,” he said noncommittally. 

He looked at you for a moment before disentangling himself from you to sit up on the bed. He pulled his pants on, but simply grabbed his shirt and sweatshirt.  You followed suit, grabbing a pair of shorts off the ground.

When his hand slipped into yours, it surprised you. You had expected him to pull on his hoodie, cover his head with his hood, and slip out to deal with whomever was at his door. Instead, he seemed to draw strength from your hand in his, standing straighter, and walking more confidently.

You blushed when you saw the way he looked at you. Something had changed with that kiss, but you couldn’t put your finger on exactly what it was.

You opened the door for him, expecting him to slip through it and leave you to deal with the woman on the other side, but instead, he walked into the hallway without letting go of your hand, dragging you along with him. Not that you particularly minded, but it surprised you.

A woman about your age turned to see you. She had blonde hair, and was dressed in a business suit. Her eyes darted between the two of you, her face a mixture of shock, and anger.

“Angela--” Elliot held up his hand that wasn’t entwined with yours in defense. His voice was even, unassuming.

“Where have you been?” She asked, exasperated. 

Her eyes glazed over his exposed chest, then wandered up to your bedhead, undoubtedly assuming he’d slept with you.

“I sent Gideon an email last night,” he said tiredly. He must have done so while you were out of the room, or was he lying? “I told him I’d be out sick today.”

You blushed, knowing he had done so on your account - to spend time with you.

Angela’s blue eyes flickered across your body, and she scowled. She grabbed his arm and he flinched, letting go of your hand and moving towards her so she would stop pulling him. Her expression faded from mad to hurt, and she let go of him. 

“Come on,” she said. “We need to talk.”

He glanced at you quickly, his expression unreadable, and let her into his apartment. Before he closed the door behind him, he looked back at you with an expression you read as longing, before shutting the door.

With the door shut, you just stood there, staring. Questions you had been too dazed to think about spread across your mind. Who was she? Did Elliot have a girlfriend he hadn’t told you about? Was that why she was so angry. Perhaps a sister?

You realized how little you still knew about Elliot. Still, it didn’t bother you as much as it should have. You considered feeling jealous over this mysterious woman, but then you remembered how he had melted into your touch and flinched at hers.

You got dressed and decided to run some banking errands and various other things you needed to do on your way to work. You locked your apartment behind you and made your way down the stairs. As you were a few steps down, you heard footsteps following you. Your and Elliot’s rooms were the only ones in that part of the hallway, and your stomach lurched. It wasn’t Elliot’s familiar footfalls. 

“Hey!” You heard Angela beckon. 

You turned around, expecting to see that angry blonde glaring at you. Turning around on the landing, you saw she was actually smiling. Her wide eyes watched you as she held out her hand.

“Sorry,” she apologized. “That must have seemed kind of strained up there. I’m Angela.”

You shook her hand tentatively, giving her your name. You continued walking downstairs, not knowing what else you should say to her.

“You known Elliot long?” She asked. Her voice was carefully casual, trying too hard to sound as though she didn’t care.

“Not really,” you muttered. 

“Oh,” she said. She was trying to be bubbly and it was starting to wear on you already. “I’ve known him since we were kids,” she said. 

So not a sister then. A childhood friend.

She stopped walking, touching your arm lightly to stop you. You let her, turning to see what it was she wanted to say now.

“Listen, I’m sorry if I seemed… standoffish back there,” she said, seeming to mean it. “I just… Care about Elliot. When he didn’t come into work today, I thought something might have happened and I wanted to make sure… Anyway… When I saw  _ you, _ I was a little surprised.”

She was talking without breathing, or so it seemed.

“Elliot doesn’t really let people touch him,” she explained. “And then here you are, and there he is… And he hadn’t mentioned anyone, so I didn’t know what to think.”

He hadn’t mentioned you because it had only been a few days, you thought. You noticed that Elliot was shy, but you hadn’t realized he had a thing about touching. He seemed to want to touch you anyway.

“Well… It’s cool,” you said, not knowing how to react. “He’s lucky he has someone who cares for him like you.”

She smiled and nodded. 

You exited your apartment building and starting walking towards your errands, and she continued to follow you. She asked you about your job and your family, and you answered, giving as little detail as possible. It wasn’t that she seemed like a bad person, but her possessiveness of Elliot had thrown you. You were sure he didn’t feel comfortable about it, and neither did you.

You stopped outside the bank as she finished talking about her job.

“Well, I’m gonna go do some stuff before work,” you said, indicating you wanted to go in alone. You figured she had to get back to work anyway.

“Oh, sure,” she said. You were about to turn and she added, “I think it’s great, you and him.”

You balked, unsure if there even  _ was _ a you and Elliot. For all she knew, you’d been lovers for months. Still, it felt good to hear it. It confirmed the feelings that you had.

She looked at you one more time, almost as if she were a mother looking at her child, and then said her goodbyes. You didn’t know what to make of her. It was nice that Elliot had a friend looking out for him, but you weren’t sure how you felt towards her yet.

You tried not to think about Elliot at work. Somehow, he was always on the edge of your thoughts, tumbling into the limelight every now and again, making you smile. About halfway through your shift, your smile fell off your face like a man jumping from a building. The preppy asshole who had followed you home and nearly assaulted you was back. You saw him from the back of the coffee house and froze, the coffee cup freezing in mid air between your tray and the table. The patron at the table cleared her throat, restoring you back to the task at hand. You quickly laid down her coffee and stepped away. The man walked in a fairly straight line, and it was clear you were his intended destination. There was something strange about him, though. His once broad and proudly held shoulders were slumped, his hands were in his pockets, and he kept his gaze mostly on the ground as he neared you.

You tried to sidestep him, to get away and go hide in the back, not wanting a scene, but the mess of people around you forced you to face him. Biting your lip, and clutching your tray so tightly your knuckles turned white, you tried to steady your breathing. You expected him to come on to you again, threaten you even. 

Instead, he said softly, “I would like to apologize for my behavior.”

He spoke stiffly, like he was trying to remember a script. He barely glanced at you, keeping his gaze on the ground. You loosened your grip on the tray, relaxing a little. 

“I was a pig, and I am sorry I disrespected you and made you feel unsafe.”

You nearly gaped at his words. Since this was all happening so quietly, no one around you paid it any mind. You tried to respond, but were utterly shocked.

“I am moving to another city, so you will never see me again. Thank you for hearing me out.”

He turned to leave then, after a quick glance at your surprised features. 

“Thank you,” you muttered as he left without a chance for you to say it to his face. 

It didn’t undo the fear and anger you had felt from the attempted assault and general creepiness, but it did make you feel better. Perhaps there was hope for American men after all.  You watched the man leave, and as he stepped outside the coffee house, he gave a man in a hoodie a wide berth.

You couldn’t be sure it was Elliot, even after you went outside to see where the hooded man had walked off to.

Had Elliot really blackmailed that man? At the time, when he’d found all that information, you thought he was just bluffing. You had laughed at the idea in your head, feeling comfort from the offhand offer. The man had even mentioned that he was moving. Was it coincidence? Or had Elliot actually forced this man out of the city for you? A jolt of adoration spread through you. That level of protectiveness after only a few days of knowing each other was… well, it was something you’d barely experienced with people you’d known for years.

You breezed through the rest of your shift, eager to get home and thank Elliot. When you did arrive home, you sorted through your mail and sighed. It was almost all bills. The others were junk. The bills had been piling up, and the coffee shop didn’t pay you quite enough to get by. You’d tried to see if you could get a promotion, but your manager didn’t want to have to pay you any more money. You were basically managing, serving, and getting paid horribly. But, that’s what it was like starting out on your own, you told yourself, pouring cheap pasta into a pot for dinner.

After dinner, you went and knocked on Elliot’s door. You still didn’t have his number. It felt strange, but you were also fairly certain Elliot rarely used his phone. Who would he talk to? Who would he allow himself to be accountable to?

He didn’t answer, and you guessed he was either working late or out somewhere. He wouldn’t just be ignoring you, right? Defeated, you slumped back to your apartment and snuggled in for the night with Netflix and some wine, ignoring the reminder emails regarding your bills.

The next few days passed without interest. Elliot was never home when you knocked. Although your schedule varied, you weren’t sure his really did. Still, he never seemed to be home when you were, and you didn’t hear him coming or going when you were awake. You missed him in these days. You missed his quiet intelligence and knowing eyes.

When you walked into work, nearly a week since the last time you saw Elliot, you were surprised to find him sitting at the back table, hood drawn, laptop out, earbuds in. Your stomach gave an involuntary squeeze and you felt yourself blush. He hadn’t seen you yet, but you’d be here for the next eight hours, so he would. You pulled at your work shirt and tried to adjust your hair to look semi-presentable. You were going to make your way over to him to say hi before you started your shift, but your manager, Paul, pulled you aside before you could get to him.

“(Y/N),” he addressed you. “Can you come with me to the back for a second?”

You must have looked worried, for he sighed and shook his head, looking tired, defeated.

“It’s nothing bad,” he promised. 

You nodded and followed him to the back room. It smelled like chinese food, probably the last thing someone had heated up in the microwave for lunch. He asked the one person back there to give you the room, and she obliged, leaving you alone with your boss. He turned to you and grimaced.

“You’ve been doing some fantastic work,” he said.

He seemed to mean it, but also said it regretfully, as if it were a bad thing.

“Thanks,” you muttered.

“That’s why I’d like to give you a raise, and promote you to manager,” he said, watching your reaction.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and you laughed.

“Seriously?” you asked.

He frowned.

“Yeah,” he answered, shrugging. “Why not?”

“Thank you!” you said, thinking of the bills on your counter… and your night stand… and under the coffee table.

“You’ll start next week. You basically already know how to manage the store anyway,” he said. 

“That sounds great!” you said. 

Sure, manager of a coffee shop was not your ideal job, but it was good enough for now. Good enough for your bills too.

“For now, just do as you would, and you can start shadowing me and learning what you need to know for next week,” he said. 

You nodded and went out to the floor, smiling like an idiot. Finally, your hard work had paid off. You nearly danced over to Elliot. 

“Hi, stranger,” you greeted loud enough to get past whatever was blasting from his headphones. It sounded like Pink Floyd.

He looked up slowly and for a moment, it felt like he didn’t register you. Almost as though it took his eyes a moment to focus, he soon smiled softly at you and took out his earbuds, closing his laptop.

“Hi,” he said sheepishly.

“Where have you been?” you asked, pulling out your notepad to pretend to be getting his order in case your boss looked over.

He shrugged, his eyes peering out from under his hoodie.

“Around,” he answered vaguely. You frowned, this seemed distant, even for him.

“Do you want any coffee?” you asked, not knowing what else to say to him in such a public place.

He shook his head.   
“I just came here for the wifi,” he admitted, stuffing his laptop into his bag. 

He had wifi at his house didn’t he? Perhaps it wasn’t working. Or maybe he just wanted to see you and didn’t want to admit it for some reason.

“Hey, do you want to maybe hang out tonight?” you asked, feeling ridiculous for the flush of your cheeks.

Elliot shouldered his bag and adjusted his hoodie so it was more firmly up.

“Uh, I have plans,” he said, clearly lying.

You shrunk at the blatant rejection. 

“Oh,” you couldn’t hide the hurt from your voice. “Okay.”

He gave you a sympathetic grimace, and turned. He hesitated for a moment and then continued, walking out the door without looking back.

The high you had felt from getting your promotion deflated slightly with this interaction. Here you had thought seeing Elliot would be the icing on your pay raise cake, but that was not the case. You made it through your shift somehow, trying to think of things you could do by yourself when you got home. You decided to treat yourself to some ice cream and curl up with a book for the evening.

You didn’t hear Elliot walking around his apartment like you usually did, and you didn’t hear his door open or close at any point. You wondered where he was spending all his time. Maybe he was frequenting various coffee shops and using their wifi until they kicked him out for not buying anything? Something felt off. The way he had just brushed you off felt forced, unnatural. Had Angela said something to him? Maybe you rubbed her the wrong way and she had warned him to stay away. It didn’t feel like he would listen to her. Plus, she had given you two her blessing.

You read the same page twice, then three times, and then finally put the book down, realizing your thoughts were too pressing to try to distract yourself with a book.

It was around midnight that the sounds woke you up. Something slammed against the hallway wall, the a doorknob jiggled, and then there were some moans and various other banging sounds. Through the haze of sleep, you realized it was Elliot’s door. Was someone breaking in? Maybe they’d been casing the joint and realized he was away for a long time. You would have called the cops, but you couldn’t be sure that it wasn’t just Elliot making a drunken ruccous or something. 

Grabbing a kitchen knife, you decided to check it out as best you could. You grabbed your phone as well and kept it open to the keypad in case of an emergency. You just wanted to see if you could tell if it were Elliot or not, then you were decided on calling the police.

You crept to your door and looked out the peep hole. Elliot’s door was ajar, but you couldn’t see anything inside. You stepped out into the hallway as quietly as you could. Taking steps as though the floor were made of thin ice, you made your way over to Elliot’s door and slowly pushed it open, knife raised. 

You nearly screamed as another groan sounded from inside. 

“Elliot?” you tried, your voice shaky.

You pushed the door open and stepped inside to see Elliot sitting at the kitchen table, bleeding.

“Elliot!” you cried, dropping the knife and your phone and running over to him. His face was battered. Two or three very large bruises were forming, and his left eye was swollen. That was the least of his injuries. As your eyes followed down the lines of his neck to his shoulder, down to his ribs, you could see a small hole in the fabric of his sweatshirt a few inches above his hip bone. A bullet hole.

“Elliot, what happened?” you begged for an answer. 

He groaned again and almost fainted, his head bobbing down and back up, his eyes unfocused.He mumbled something incoherent.

“We have to get you to a hospital,” you exclaimed, pressing your hand gently to his torso. 

He winced, but you knew you had to stop the blood. It was seeping through from his skin, making his dark gray sweatshirt black. The wound was near his side, hopefully having spared any vital organs.

“No hospital,” he slurred. “Just need to stop the bleeding.”

You’d only ever been taught basic first aide, and that did not include suturing a wound, nor retrieving a bullet. You checked the back of his torso, and were relieved to find that there was an exit wound. The bullet had gone clean through. You bit your lip, unsure if you should just call an ambulance, Elliot be damned.

Elliot started moving as you were debating, and you couldn’t stop him as he slid off his sweatshirt and shirt at the same time, pulling them over his head while grunting and breathing hard. You helped as much as you could, discarding the shirts. 

“Alcohol,” you muttered. “We need to clean the wound.”

Elliot raised his hand with effort to point to a wall closet. Rushing to it, you found rubbing alcohol and some paper towels. With shaking hands, you brought the supplies back over to Elliot. His light brown skin seemed to glow in the moonlight, his dark blood giving it more contrast. Both the entrance and exits wounds were still bleeding fairly profusely, and you knew that paper towels would not be enough. You would have to suture those holes if you wanted them to stop bleeding. 

“I’ll be right back,” you breathed, before sprinting back to your apartment. 

You rummaged through your closet and found an old sewing kit. Your mother always insisted that you should have one in case a button fell off a shirt or something. You were grateful for that now more than ever. Rushing back over to Elliot’s, you fished the sharpest needle and some thread out of the box. Elliot looked at your equipment and grimaced, knowing this would hurt.

“Sorry,” you muttered.

“Thank you,” he responded through gritted teeth.

You gave him a sympathetic smile and brought the thread up to the needle. I took a few tries, but you managed to get the thread through the hole and tie it there.

“Lay down,” you instructed him.

You slid your arm under his shoulder and helped him up, and then down onto the floor. He looked almost relieved to be down there. He blinked slowly and stared at the ceiling as you leaned down next to him. 

It wasn’t a large hole, you told yourself. Just a few stitches and it’d be closed up. Trembling, you brought the needle to his skin. You pinched the skin together with one hand, and readied your needle with the other. Already, as you pinched the skin together, you could tell the bleeding was slowing because of it. Tentatively, you shoved the needle through, pulling the string along through his skin. Elliot winced and cried out, but you kept going. You threaded the needle through his wound, closing it up. Somehow, you didn’t feel nauseous. Somehow, you became more sure of yourself with every stroke of the needle. Was it because it was clearly stopping the bleeding? Was it because if you stopped to think about it, if you couldn’t do this for him, he might very well bleed out?

Whatever was helping you along, you thanked it as you rolled Elliot over and completed your stitches on his exit wound.

When you were done, you folded a bunch of paper towels, grabbed some duct tape, and taped the towels over the wound as a makeshift gauze. Elliot had passed out during the last few stitches of the exit wound, and lay motionless, but breathing, on the floor. 

Your hands and clothes were soaked in his blood. The floor had an enormous dark red stain on it, and Elliot lay in the middle of it.

He was too heavy to move, so you decided to let him rest for a while before waking him to move him somewhere else. You washed your hands and kept an eye on him. His chest rose and fell with his steady breaths. You washed as much blood off of his skin as you couldn without moving or waking him.

His blood was drying on your clothes. You wanted to change, but didn’t dare leave him. Thoughts and questions came into your mind, but you pushed them aside, knowing the only person who could give you answers was lying unconscious before you.

Feeling a little intrusive, but also not caring, you sifted through Elliot’s wardrobe for a clean shirt and some sweatpants. You threw your clothes away, never wanting to see them again, regardless of whether or not you could get the stains out. After you took off your shirt, you realized the blood had soaked through to your bra and even your skin. After checking on Elliot one more time, seeing he was stable, you quickly jumped in the shower, just long enough to wash the blood away.

You donned Elliot’s soft shirt and sweatpants. It was comforting, having his clothes on you. They were baggy, but they felt like they fit you in another way. After you had made yourself more comfortable, you sat down next to Elliot. The blood on the floor had dried. It was about one in the morning at this point, and you felt the falloff of the adrenaline hit you. Your eyes felt heavy as you watched Elliot, but you couldn’t fall asleep while watching him.

Thankful for your late shift the following day, you made yourself watch him. Your head had started to droop when he finally spoke about an hour later.

“You’re still here,” he remarked, barely above a whisper.

Your head snapped up to look at him. His eyes were tired, but he was there. The fuzziness from before was lessened, and he tried to sit up. Grunting and grimacing, he slid back down.

“What the hell happened?” you demanded in a low voice.

He closed his eyes, and for a moment you thought he’d fallen asleep again. However, he opened them the next moment and stared up at you.

“Thank you,” he said, so sincerely that it made you blush. 

“You can thank me when I’m sure you’re not going to die,” you muttered, thinking of how sloppy your stitches were, how likely his wounds were to get infected.

He moved again, and you helped him, knowing he couldn’t stay on the floor. He brushed against you, and you could feel his cold skin through your borrowed shirt. You helped him limp over to his bed where he promptly collapsed. 

As you watched him lie there, you felt a mix of hurt and longing. You wanted to be with him, to hold his hand through all of this. And yet, you had no idea why it had happened. You hadn't known him that long, granted, but still, probability of getting shot at was something he might have mentioned. You could see from his expression that he wasn’t about to give you his life story and explain why he had been shot in the abdomen at midnight. You watched him for a moment, and wondered if you should leave. Did he even want you here?

As if he could read your mind, he muttered, “Stay.”

He looked up at you with pleading eyes. 

“Please,” he added.

You sighed, knowing you’d only sit up and fret about him if you went back to your apartment. He grunted as he slid over on the bed, looking up at you guiltily as he waited for you to join him. If he didn’t look so pale, if he was just sitting there, waiting for you, maybe you’d feel differently. As it were, you felt detached. You thought you knew this man. Well, not details, no, but you thought there was a connection. You thought you had a read on him. You thought you’d at least know if he was into dangerous stuff that might get him shot.

Sliding into bed, you could feel yourself tensing up. You sat stiffly next to him as he lay down, placing his head on the pillow, and looking at you with those big, brown eyes. You tried to keep your resolve. It wasn’t as though he had lied to you exactly, but it still felt like he was keeping a part of himself separate.

“You’re upset,” his low voice interrupted your thoughts.

You swivelled your head to look down at him. He was still damp with sweat, and in the moonlight, you were able to see he was actually quite fit. There was no defined six pack or anything, but he was toned, sleek. You drew your eyes away from his body back to his features.

“Yeah, I’m upset,” you huffed. You pulled your knees to your chest and hugged them to you.

He sighed, and waited a moment before continuing.

“I’m sorry, I know you didn’t… sign up for this,” he said, gesturing to his bullet wound.

The guilt in his voice made your heart ache.

“What happened?” you asked timidly.

He didn’t say anything, he just stared at you. 

“If you’re not going to tell me--” You made to get off of the bed and leave.

“Wait, please,” his voice cracked in an uncharacteristically vulnerable moment.

You stopped and looked at him. His wounds were already starting to bleed through your makeshift gauze. You tentatively sat back down, waiting for him to explain.

“You know about bugs, right?” he asked, watching you for signs of recognition. “Like, computer bugs, viruses,” he added. You nodded. “They get into your system and mess you up, wipe you out completely.” You frowned, not understanding what his job had to do with anything right now. “But you can block them out, protect your source code… And I’ve found that that's the only way to protect myself. I never show them my source code. I close myself off… I create my cold, perfect maze where no one can ever find me.” 

He had started his speech by gazing at the air between the two of you, and seemed lost in there somehow, caught in the limbo space.

Your heart tightened at his words. Of course he would want to protect himself. You knew he was a little different, you sensed it, as did everyone else. That must have been hard, especially growing up. It was no wonder he’d built himself a maze to get lost in. Could you find your way in?

His gaze drifted to you as you laid down next to him. His injured side was on the opposite side to you, and you laid your head gently on his chest, resting your hand just above his navel. He seemed to sigh and melt into your touch.

“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you,” Elliot said quietly. You felt his words reverberating in his chest. “I just… can’t.”

You felt yourself nodding. You could understand being closed off from people. You’d certainly been hurt before, so it was understandable. Still, you bet he hadn’t told many people what he’d just told you. How many people had given up on him thinking he just didn’t care?

You made yourself a promise not to give up on him. There was a maze around him for a reason. There was something worth protecting in the middle, and you were determined to find it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay, I got bumped up to full time at work! I plan to keep writing when I can, and have a general outline for the next few chapters so stay tuned!  
> also excuse the demisexual writing sex scenes, I do my best with my limited experience :)

You woke to Elliot’s smooth skin against your cheek, your head still where you had laid it in the middle of the night. It was early, the light was just starting to peek through the curtains. You couldn’t have been out for more than a few hours, but you somehow felt rested, like your body had made the most of its time asleep.

You groaned as you sat up, looking down at Elliot. He wasn’t as pale as he had been a few hours ago. His skin had more life to it now. He hadn’t bled through the makeshift bandages yet, so you took that to mean your hackjob of sewing him up was at least adequate. You brushed your hair behind your ear, startling a little as you saw Elliot looking up at you with doe eyes.

“How are you feeling?” you quickly asked.

Elliot glanced down at his wound and shifted, wincing at the movement. 

“Like I’ve been shot,” he gave you half of a smile.

You rolled your eyes.

“Can you get up? Move around?” you asked, thinking he shouldn’t lie still for too long. You needed to know he could manage on his own as well.

He nodded and very slowly pushed himself up onto his elbows. Without any need for him to ask, you moved and slid yourself under his arm to help him up and off the bed. His skin was cool to the touch, and you took that as a sign that he was infection free for now.

You helped him walk around the room a little. He tired quickly, but seemed to do okay. You led him back to the bed and he sat down. His eyes drifted over your body - his clothes. You blushed.

“Sorry… Mine had, um, blood on them,” you explained.

Elliot’s eyes lingered on you before lifting to meet your gaze. His tongue wet his lower lip and he swallowed.

“It’s fine,” he barely whispered. 

Glancing at the clock, you realized you should be getting ready for work soon if you didn’t want to be late. You couldn’t risk calling out when the promotion was so close.

“I have to go,” you apologized. They’re going to promote me at work, and I don’t want to let that go by--”

“Go,” Elliot nodded. 

He clearly didn’t want you to go, but you couldn’t make yourself stay. Your shift was only a few hours today, you could come back as soon as you were done.

You watched him for a moment. He sat there, gazing up at you looking vulnerable and confident all at once. When you leaned down to kiss him, he pulled back a moment after your lips touched. You were about to apologize, but he leaned back in and kissed you more fiercely, bringing a hand up to cup your face and lock your lips with his. 

It left you breathless. You blushed and told him you’d stop by after work. You pressed your fingers to your lips as you left, hoping to lock in the feeling of his.

Work was a haze of new information regarding your promotion, along with a sudden influx of new customers. The coffee shop had gotten busier lately, and you were truly shining in your abilities as a manager-in-training. You felt good, really good. With the small detail of Elliot having been shot at, and the nagging sensation in your gut caused by wondering why, you felt happy. You couldn’t think of a scenario where Elliot had done something deserving of his wound, but how else did he get it? Was he simply mugged? But then why not tell you?

You tried not to let Elliot distract you from your work, and finished up your shift with an approving nod from your boss, Paul.

After quickly dumping your stuff in your apartment and gobbling down some food, you rushed over to see Elliot. You knocked and announced yourself as you came in. His place was just as you’d left it, only Elliot was sitting at his computer instead of laying in his bed like he should have been. You only saw black screens with white text on them, and wondered if he was working from home.

“Hey,” you said. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”

Elliot slipped the hood off his head and turned around slowly to see you. You saw the pain that the movement caused in the tightening of his jaw and the flinch in his eyes.

Your teasing features fell to sympathy. You walked over to him and brushed your hand against his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch. 

“Come on,” you ordered. “Back to bed.”

For a moment, those stubborn brown eyes fought you, but eventually you won the staring contest. Taking your hand, Elliot let you lead him to the bed where the rumpled covers lay.

“Have you eaten?” you asked as he sat down on the edge. He shook his head.

You went to the fridge and opened it, seeing barely anything inside. 

“Do you ever eat?” you asked, thinking of your overstocked fridge.

Elliot shrugged.

“How are you feeling?” you tried, walking back over to him.

“Alright, I guess,” he answered, noncommittally.

You frowned. 

“Really?” you pressed.

Elliot watched you carefully for a moment before moving to raise his sweatshirt up, revealing that the makeshift bandage was nearly black with blood. A small gasp escaped your lips.

“Why didn’t you say something?” you exclaimed, running to get the alcohol and some paper towels.

“I didn’t want to bother you with it,” Elliot answered plainly. “It isn’t a big deal.”

“Lay down,” you ignored him, pulling his shirt up fully.

You undid the tape around the bandage and pulled it away. The wound was bleeding, a stitch had been ripped.

“Shit,” you murmured. 

You grabbed your sewing kit and repeated your procedure from the night he had been shot, hoping that this time it would stick. He hissed and clenched his teeth as you finished your job, closing up the skin.

Once he was taken care of, you washed your hands and returned to him. He was laying down where you had left him. He followed you with his eyes as you walked up to him. He stretched out a hand to you, and you let him pull you into bed with him. You laid next to his unharmed side, your head resting on his shoulder, his arm around you. You let out a long sigh.

“I think someone has been following me,” he said softly, unprompted.

You turned your head up to look at him. He was staring at the ceiling. 

“Why do you say that?” you asked.

He swallowed and waited a moment before responding, as if weighing whether or not he should continue.

“The man who shot me, I’ve seen him around before,” he said quietly.

You sat up to look at him. 

“Why haven’t you told the police?” you asked.

“Because I’ve been following him too,” he said.

You paused, looking down at him. 

“What do you mean?” you asked cautiously.

Elliot shifted, uncomfortable, unsure. 

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he said, taking a moment to meet your gaze.

“I know,” you admitted. To be fair, he didn’t know much about you either. 

It looked like he was fighting himself, trying to decide whether or not to let you in. You laid a gentle hand on his and gave it a light squeeze.

“You don’t have to hide in your maze from me,” you assured him.

His eyes flickered with something you didn’t recognize. He swallowed and nodded. 

“You know Evil Corp, right?” he asked.

You nodded, knowing the nickname for E Corp that many people had subscribed to using as its actual name.

“I’ve been trying to hack them, to bring them down,” he said simply, as if he had said he was trying to buy a gallon of milk from a grocery store.

“Why?” you almost laughed. The task seemed absurd and impossible, and that was with your limited knowledge of tech security.

“This man… He’s part of main group that runs the company. If I can get inside just one of their accounts, I could bring them down. Millions of dollars in debt would be erased, people suffering in poverty and drowning in debt would be free. We could start again, build a new society off of something better.”

You tensed. You’d never heard someone talk so seriously about something so close to anarchy. Your whole life had been based on the system that had already been put in place for you - a set of rules that had to be followed. Thinking back on your bills, you felt a sort of admiration for him, though. Money was a concept created by humans, and the more you lived, the more it seemed more detrimental than helpful.

Still, what he was doing was highly illegal, not to mention dangerous, as he had already found  out.

“Do you think they’ll come back for you?” you asked.

Elliot sighed and closed his eyes.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I thought I heard someone yell, ‘Stop,’ at the man who shot me, but I could have misheard or misread.”

You nodded, trying to figure out how you felt about everything. Elliot opened his eyes and studied you.

“You’re upset,” he noted. 

“I’m just… worried,” you said.

“Why?”

You laughed and shook your head. 

“Because I care about you, Elliot,” you sighed. “And I don’t want to have to do this again,” you added, pointing to the haphazard stitches. “Are you in pain?” you asked suddenly, realizing he hadn’t taken any aspirin or anything.

Elliot nodded slightly as he grimaced.

“Can I get you some Advil?” you asked.

“There might be some in the nightstand,” he said offhand.

You went to reach for the drawer, and as you were pulling it open, he yelled, “Stop!”

You froze, but the drawer was already open. Inside you saw pills in a bag, along with a razor blade. Those didn’t look like legit prescriptions to you. You turned to him as you held up the bag.

“What’s this?” you asked, trying not to sound accusing. What place was it of yours to judge him?

He looked guiltily at you as he sat up slowly, wincing at the pain.

“Morphine,” he said weakly.

“Morphine,” you repeated, studying the pills. “Maybe… you should take one?” you asked.

He shook his head vigorously. 

“No, I’m done with it,” he said flatly.

Something in his eyes was strange. There was a story behind the skittishness, you were sure. But why were the pills still here if he was done with them?

You slid the pills back into the drawer and pulled your hands into your lap. There was so much information to process, so many new facets to Elliot.

“I might have some--” 

“No, I’m fine,” he interrupted, laying back down. He had gone a tad pale in his venture to sit up so quickly.

The silence spread thickly as you waited for him to speak again.

“I understand if… if you don’t want to…” he trailed off, looking at the blankets on his bed. “With me anymore,” he managed. 

You gazed at him for a moment. This man who wanted to take out the system that held so many people down, this man who had a drug problem but wanted to get better. You weren’t about to abandon this man.

You shook your head.

“I want to be here,” you said. “I want to be with you.”

Elliot reached out and touched your cheek with his fingers, gently sliding them down your face, testing to see if you were really there. Finding your flushed face beneath his touch, he smiled slightly.

You laid down beside him and faced him. He was close enough that you felt his breath on your skin when he exhaled. 

“My perfect maze... crumbling before my eyes,” he whispered. You blushed.

“You don’t need to hide behind anything with me,” you promised.

He bit his lip and searched your face for any sign of a lie.

“That’s what scares me,” he said softly.

Your lips gravitated to his, as though some unknown force was pulling you together. His mouth was soft and warm on yours, molding against you slowly and surely.

“I don’t know everything that’s going on with you, or if whoever did this is still after you, but I promise I will be there with you to deal with it,” you said when your lips parted. You rested your forehead against his.

Breathing in and out, steadying your heartbeat, you wondered if your promise was the wisest decision. Surely staying next to a man who was getting shot at put you at remarkable risk. Still, you’d hate yourself if you abandoned him, if he had let you in and you crushed him despite his trust.

As you left, feeling Elliot’s intense gaze on your back, you knew you’d be tied to him in one way or another for a very long time. 

Surprisingly, the next few days passed without incident. Your training for your promotion was complete, and you started collecting a considerably larger paycheck. Elliot went back to work despite his still sore side. You made sure to inspect his wounds and clean them out when your shift coincided with his being home.

Nothing changed between the two of you. You spent your nights in your respective apartments for the most part. Your new position had you up earlier than usual, and you didn’t have time to waste at Elliot’s apartment in the mornings. Although you had only spent a few nights together, you found yourself longing for him when you slept alone. The good thing about your new shift was your consistent schedule, which somehow managed to give you the weekends off.

Friday night, you snagged some ice cream from the convenience store down the street, and knocked on Elliot’s door, hoping to surprise him with a nice treat.

Elliot opened the door, his classic hood up over his head, greeting you. He pulled the hood off the moment he saw you and a small smile spread across his lips.

“Hi,” he said, stepping aside. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“I know,” you said, showing him the ice cream. “I thought I’d surprise you.”

“I like chocolate,” he nodded towards the flavor you’d brought.

“Good,” you smiled.

You went to his cupboards and pulled out dishes and spoons as he watched you flit around the kitchen. He leaned back on one of the chairs, staring at you as you filled the bowls for the two of you. As you turned to see him, you saw that look in his eyes. It was strangely domestic and lustful all at once.

You handed him a bowl and licked a bit of ice cream that had gotten on your finger. He licked his lips and then took a bite of the frosty treat.

“It’s good,” he announced, mouth still full of ice cream.

You laughed and sat down at the table with him.

Once he had finished his bowl, he looked at you. His hand lay on the table, palm up, like he was waiting for you to lay your hand in his.

“I was wondering,” he said shyly, his eyes studying the table. “Would you like to come to a dinner with me tomorrow? My boss is having this fancy get together, and I, um,” he rustled his hair with his hand, “I sort of told them I’d bring my girlfriend.”

His voice went up at the end of the sentence as if it were a question, asking if you would indeed like such a title.

You blushed and felt a tingling that ran down to your toes. You laid your hand in his and squeezed lightly.

“I would love that,” you answered with equal timidity.

It felt as though you were in elementary school again, with how bashful the two of you were. For the amount of drama and intense stuff you’d seen with Elliot, it seemed ridiculous that the two of you should be so shy about making a commitment.

He breathed out and relaxed his shoulders. 

“I have to wear a suit,” he said grudgingly. “Angela said she’d personally murder me if I didn’t.”

You chuckled.

“Do you even own a suit?” you asked. 

He smiled.

“One,” he said. 

You wondered what he would look like in a suit. You’d only ever seen him shirtless or in casual clothes. The thought sent a pleasant shiver through you as you pictured it.

“What color?” you asked.

“Blue,” he answered.

“Well, I have a few dresses to match it,” you smiled.

His eyes roamed down your body, no doubt imagining whatever fantasy dress he imagined you in. You were excited at the prospect of dressing up for him. Usually you dressed for yourself, which was great, but dressing for Elliot, wanting to make him drool, was enticing.

Biting your lip, you slid closer to the edge of your seat, toward him.

“I could maybe… try some on for you tonight? You can tell me if it’s too formal or too casual,” you tried to keep your voice even.

He looked up at you with those big eyes, his pupils wide, almost sparkling. He nodded as he swallowed.

“Yeah,” he said, almost breathlessly.

“Alright,” you said smoothly, rising and taking Elliot’s dish with your own to the sink. “Follow me.”

You took his hand and led him across to your apartment. He followed you into your bedroom and took a seat on your bed as you rifled through your closet for possible options. You pulled out two options. Both were stunning, in your opinion. They showed off various assets of your body in different ways. 

You took them to the bathroom and tried on the most conservative of the two. It was the most formal dress you owned. It was white, thin silk that hugged your curves and flowed out into a nearly floor length skirt. The neckline was a low, loose band of fabric.

You tousled your hair and stepped out of the bathroom, back into your adjoining bedroom.

Elliot smiled as he saw you, his eyes caressing your every curve. 

“Option one,” you said, watching his Adam’s apple bob. 

He nodded. 

“Too formal, but very pretty,” he said.

You nodded and disappeared into the bathroom for option two. This one was less formal. It was a deep blue with a plunging neckline, low back, and short hemline. Its fabric and lines made it look fancier than perhaps it was, considering the amount of skin you were showing. However, as you walked into the bedroom and saw Elliot’s jaw physically fall open, you knew it was the one.

He moved his jaw, trying to form words as you walked out to step closer in front of him. Feeling empowered by his speechlessness, you strutted until you were right in front of him, his lips at the level of your hips.

You ran a hand through his hair, gently tipping his head back to look up at you.

“Do you like it?” you asked, leaning forward slightly to display your ample cleavage.

You didn’t know what was getting into you. Normally you wouldn’t be this forward, but something about tonight, something about his reaction to you, made you this way. And you liked it.

He nodded slightly as he gazed up at you in an almost dazed, sleepy sort of way. You leaned down slowly, taking your time, lingering for a breath just an inch away from his lips. You waited, letting the expectation well up inside of you, before taking his mouth with yours. It was a rushed, frantic kiss, the kind you’d expected the first time. He pulled you to him, his hands firm on your hips, guiding you down. You straddled him on the edge of the bed, pressing yourself as hard as you could against him. It was like you suddenly couldn’t get enough of him. He was the sun and you’d only seen darkness, he was water after wandering the desert.

You clutched him to you. He laid back and you followed, feeling your chest press to his as you lay down. Your tongue explored his mouth, and his yours. His hands were everywhere, sliding, feeling. Your head was spinning and you felt a growing heat between your legs. Rubbing up against him, you could feel him becoming hard beneath you. You wanted to keep this going, to make him feel good, to make him want you. You slid your hands under his shirt and brought it up. He helped you slide it off and expose his skin. His wound was healing nicely now, and he had not even winced in pain at any of your activities so far. You left his lips to kiss a line down his neck, every so often nipping at his smooth skin. He moaned softly as you continued down to his chest, running your hands over his slightly muscled torso. You quickly undid his jeans, gently pulling them down to reveal his manhood. 

Glancing up at his features, you saw complete adoration. Sliding him into your mouth, you began slowly, carefully. His hips writhed and bucked beneath you and you took great pleasure and pride in your effect on him.

Slowly, you increased your speed, watching his reactions as you did so. When he finally came undone, you swallowed everything and wiped your lips with your hand. You looked at him as he lay breathless and bare beneath you. Perhaps he did hide away in that maze sometimes, even from you, but here - naked and vulnerable -  there was nothing to hide.

You sat back and watched as he leveled his breathing and ran his hand along his chest and down his stomach. He was so  _ beautiful. _ He was beautiful in the way his chest rose and fell, in the way he licked his lips, and propped himself up on his elbows to look at you. The way he cocked his head to the side, studying you, made your heart ache.

You leaned down to kiss him, your lips still salty with the taste of him. He brushed a piece of hair behind your ear gently, and kissed you back. Carefully, he sat up, keeping you in his lap. His hands brushed your shoulders and followed the line of the dress down to your lower back.

Sending chills up your spine as he gently slid your dress off of your shoulders, he exposed you. Having not put on a bra because of the dress’ design, you were completely bare for him. As he kissed you, his warm hands traced your curves, lavishing them with attention as he bit at your lower lip. With one hand on your lower back, he flipped the two of you. Laying on your back, you followed his silent command to raise your hips as he slid the dress off, followed by your panties.

For a moment, you felt apprehensive. What would he think of you? For a moment, you felt the nerves in your stomach tingle. But, when you saw him, when you saw the look in his eyes, your trepidations faded away into nothing.

He looked at you as if you were the answer to every question he’d ever asked. When he kissed your body, tracing your lines with his lips and tongue, you closed your eyes and felt the appreciation he felt for you in every touch. When he went down, swirling his tongue, sucking gently until you came undone, you grasped at the sheets around you, trying to tether yourself to this world, lest the ecstasy whisk you away to another realm.

You tasted yourself on his lips as he kissed you afterwards, both your cheeks flushed with pleasure. You parted and stared at each other for a moment, an unspoken connection forming between you. 

Without saying anything, without needing to, he pulled you to him, nestling against your back and holding you tightly to him. He gently kissed your neck and slid his hands along your hip. You felt every inch of him as he pressed up against you.

As you felt yourself drifting to sleep, you realized how lonely you had felt before Elliot, and how utterly complete you felt now.


	5. Chapter 5

You woke up to the feeling of an arm moving over your skin. As you blinked the sleep from your eyes and woke up, you felt Elliot’s arm tightening around you, pulling you closer to him. Closer was nearly impossible. Your bare skin connected with his in almost every place it could, your back against him completely.

You let out a sleepy groan and felt him nuzzle into your neck, gently grazing his teeth along your skin as a greeting. Images of the previous night rolled through your mind - his eyes, his hands, his tongue - the night had been wonderful with him. It was hard to believe you’d only known him such a short time, and already felt so connected with him. Going to his boss’ house for dinner tonight, being referred to as, “Elliot’s girlfriend,” would be lovely.

You’d never really been someone’s girlfriend before, or someone’s  _ anything _ for that matter. The fact that Elliot had wanted you to be  _ his _ in any form or label was an intoxicating feeling. You felt his warm breath whispering along your neck and sighed. 

Rolling over to see him, you were surprised at just how beautiful he looked this morning. As if your memory had somehow faded overnight, you marveled at his brightness. No, your memory hadn’t faltered, he had changed. Something in his eyes had changed. He seemed lighter. 

You pressed your lips against his, languidly, lazily. 

“Hi,” you whispered, smiling.

“Hi,” he let out a low laugh.

“What do you want to do today?” you asked, wondering if he had any plans before his boss’ party.

Elliot shrugged and blinked the remaining sleepiness from his eyes.

“Gideon asked me to bring something, like wine,” he said. You raised an eyebrow. “I don’t have any wine,” he added. 

“Ah,” you said. “A shopping adventure then?”

For a moment he seemed worried about the idea. Did he want some time alone? His brows furrowed and he thought for a moment before his face relaxed into a neutral expression.

“Yeah,” he said. “That could be fun.”

You wondered what his hesitation was about, and were about to ask him until he kissed you. He sat up and leaned over the edge of the bed, looking for where his clothes had landed. Your eyes followed the curves of his back and neck. It was ridiculous how smooth and fine every inch of him was. You wanted to run your tongue along every line of him.

To your chagrin, he slipped on his clothes and looked back at you. 

“I’ll just change and then we can go?” he asked. 

“Yeah, let me just grab a bagel or something and I’ll come over,” you agreed.

After getting dressed, you paused, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror as you passed by. Something was different. You hadn’t changed your hair, and were wearing the same ratty t shirt you’d had forever, but there was a hint of something else about you. Maybe it was the way you stood a little straighter, maybe it was the way your eyes seemed to shine a little brighter, maybe it was the faint smile on your lips. You could lie to yourself and say that it wasn’t because of Elliot, because of the way he looked at you, made you feel, but you didn’t.

Pulling a sweatshirt on, you walked over to Elliot’s apartment and knocked on the door. He answered, exiting with his hood up, and a faint smile on. 

“Where should we go?” you asked as he slipped his hand into yours. 

It was a simple, easy gesture, like running a hand through your hair. 

“Liquor store?” he asked.

“Lead the way,” you gestured with your free hand.

Elliot’s liquor store of choice required a subway ride. Although there was one a few blocks away, he said he knew a guy and could get a decent discount. You vaguely wondered if he’d hacked this man, and the discount was a way to blackmail him. You still hadn’t made up your mind about that side of Elliot. From what he’d shared with you, he didn’t use information against anyone who didn’t deserve it. Still, it wasn’t completely ethical. You couldn’t get hung up on it for too long without thinking about the other aspects of him, though; like the way he looked at you, stood slightly and protectively in front of you - those were good enough to push any doubts away for now. 

The subway was packed with people, despite it being fairly early for a weekend. The cool metal of the pole was a relief from the body heat around you. You leaned on it while Elliot stood opposite you, his body only separated from yours by the pole. He had his hand on the small of your back, making sure you didn’t get thrown from any sudden stops or passing people. An older man seated across from you grazed his eyes over your body, not trying to hide the pleasure in what he saw there on his face. You rolled your eyes and turned to Elliot. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were narrowed. He still had his hood up and the shield from the light made his eyes look darker. 

“Hey,” you whispered.

He managed to tear his eyes away from the man and back to you. You were afraid if you didn’t distract him, he might do something to cause a scene.

He looked at you inquisitively, waiting to see what you’d called his attention for. You simply kissed him, lingering on his lips for a breath longer than a peck.

It was fairly quick, but long enough for his eyes to linger shut after you pulled away, then blink slowly open. You smiled at this. 

He reached around your sweatshirt with the hand that wasn’t on your back. It slid up to your hood and tugged it up and over your head. Settling it on your head, you leaned in and laughed. You probably looked like idiots. It was hot on the subway, and here you were trapping in the heat on your head. He smiled though, wider than you’d ever seen him do in public. He was letting you in again, you could tell. You kissed him once more, but were interrupted by the announcement of your stop. 

Getting off, and trudging up the dirty steps of the station, you found yourselves in the street above, people bustling everywhere.

Elliot looked all around him as if he were lost.

“Do you know where to go?” you asked. 

He looked in one direction for a long time before turning to you.

“Yeah, this way,” he said, with no explanation for the delay.

You followed him, slipping your hand into his. He walked quickly, and you tried to keep up. He didn’t say anything, and didn’t look at you. You slipped your hood off as you walked, freeing your head up to the slight breeze. Elliot looked behind him, but kept walking ahead.

“How far is it?” you tried, wondering why he was so keen on walking as if he were in a speed walking race.

“Not far,” he answered.

Taking a sudden turn around the corner, you nearly tripped.

“Slow down!” you laughed. “I’m pretty sure they’re not going to close any time soon.”

Elliot looked behind him again, and then back at you.

“Right,” he said, distracted.

You looked behind you, but didn’t see anything. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was running from something, someone. No one seemed to be gunning for you though. 

“What is it?” you asked quietly, suddenly serious.

Elliot stopped, and pulled you to the side of the sidewalk. He looked again in the direction you had come from for a few long moments before looking back at you.

“Nothing,” he lied. 

You frowned, not appreciating the dishonesty.

“Elliot,” you challenged him.

Another look behind you. He sighed.

“Sorry,” was all he said. “Let’s go, we’re almost there.”

Chalking it up to a quirk in his brain that made him the man you’d come to admire, you followed him. He didn’t look behind you anymore, and his pace was slower now. He kept his hood up, and his hand firmly in yours. You got to the store and went inside. It was empty, save for the only cashier who stood at the register. He waved as you walked in and you smiled at him. He then registered Elliot and seemed to stiffen almost imperceptibly. 

You walked around the wines for a while, both of you too shy to admit you knew nothing about it. In the end, Elliot chose the most aesthetically pleasing bottle with the biggest price tag. It was an expensive wine. You’d only ever gotten eight dollar wines at best, but this was nearly eighty dollars. You wondered how much he made at his job. You imagined technicians were paid pretty well, as it required a lot of skill, but then again, he did live in your cheap apartment complex. Where did his money go then? Or did he just not care for it?

You brought the wine up to the cashier and he rung it up for $20. You almost gaped. The cashier was still stiff, but smiled at you as Elliot slid a twenty across the counter. Their apparently unspoken agreement needed no further discussion than a, “Thank you,” as he handed Elliot the receipt.

Elliot left it on the counter and grabbed the bag holding the wine. You exited the shop and headed back towards the subway. 

“What was that?” you asked after you’d turned a corner and Elliot had offered nothing.

He looked at you as if he didn’t know what you were referring to.

“That guy just gave you a serious discount for no reason,” you reminded him.

Elliot shrugged.

“If he wanted me to buy his liquor at full price, he shouldn’t have offshore accounts the IRS doesn’t know about.”

You frowned.

Elliot watched you, trying to decide if you were upset.

“What?” he asked at last.

“I don’t know,” you squirmed, feeling guilty for judging him. “Isn’t it… I don’t know, isn’t it bad to blackmail people?”

Elliot frowned and turned his attention to the street ahead of you as you walked.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I never really thought about it.”

That set off a warning bell in your head. Consequences, morality - were these gray or non-existent areas for him?

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just turn them in?” you asked. 

“To the government?” he said the word like a curse and shook his head. “I’m not doing them any favors.”

There it was again, that flash of anarchy. Not totally trusting of the government yourself, you could understand where he was coming from, but still, it went against everything you’d ever been taught.

You were silent as you made your way down to the subway platform. Waiting for the train, you stood next to Elliot, thinking.

“Are you… okay?” he asked, his eyes wide, worried.

“Yeah,” you said, trying to smile. “I just… Sometimes I forget that you’re such an… independent,” you said, veering away from ‘anarchist.’

“I’m not… It’s not that,” he said quietly. “I just… I don’t want to be part of their machine. I don’t want to run on gasoline. I want to run on… Me.”

His eyes were pleading quietly for you to understand. You nodded, trying to do so.

The train arrived and you got on, finding seats. You laid your head on Elliot’s shoulder. It felt heavier. It wasn’t that Elliot’s fear or distrust of the government was new to you, but you wondered where he drew the line on the blackmail. Who did he consider worth blackmailing if he hadn’t even given the liquor store owner a second thought?

Still, the feeling of his hand in yours felt right. The more you thought about it, the less it bothered you. Perhaps it was naive, but for some reason, you trusted Elliot. He had certainly trusted you, at least as much as he was capable at this time. You relaxed, nestling into his shoulder. Closing your eyes, you were surprised when you felt Elliot tense beneath you. You removed your head from his shoulder to look at him. He was staring at someone. There was a man at the end of train car, wearing a suit, and reading a paper. The train stopped, and Elliot got up, dragging you along with him quickly, hiding behind a group of people getting off. This wasn’t your stop. In fact, it was two stops early.

“What are you doing?” you nearly whined as he pulled you through the throngs of people and up into the streets.

You were nearly running now as you made your way down the street.

“Elliot!” you almost yelled at him. He glanced behind you, stared for a few moments, and calmed down to a walk. “What the hell?” you said. 

The first time, you had let it go, but now, you wanted an explanation. You pulled him to the side of the sidewalk and stared at him, waiting for him to explain.

“What are you doing?” you prompted him.

He shifted uncomfortably, gripping the wine. He searched your face.

“You can tell me,” you promised, stepping closer to him, shoe to shoe. “Please,” you added.

He bit his lip and glanced around the two of you again. Apparently seeing nothing alarming, he spoke quietly.

“Someone was following us,” he explained. “I thought I noticed them on our way to the store, and then I saw him again on our way back.”

You went a little cold. Could he just be paranoid?

“Was it the man who shot you?” you asked.

He shook his head.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Then who?”

“Maybe someone who works with him?” Elliot guessed. He ran a hand through his hair nervously. “I didn’t want you to get dragged into this.”

“Too late,” you said sardonically. He frowned. “I’d rather be in this than have you be in it  _ alone _ ,”  you added. 

His attention was pulled at your last word, and a sadness crept into his eyes. He suddenly wrapped his arms tightly around you and pulled you to him. Your head fit just under his chin, and you breathed him in, wondering what the cause for this unexpected gesture had been.

He held you for a few moments, and, releasing you, kissed your forehead. It somehow seemed more intimate than a kiss on the lips, and you blushed, still not knowing why he did this.

“What was that for?” you asked tentatively.

The bustle on the street had long since become blurry in your vision and hearing. There didn’t seem to be a world outside of Elliot at the moment.

He shook his head and looked at the ground, seeming to take a moment to find the right words.

“I’ve always been… alone,” he said quietly. “Until you.”

You thought about Angela, then thought about how he had recoiled from her touch. Perhaps he had friends, family, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t truly alone. Until now. Your throat tightened and you slid your hand into his, squeezing it.

“As long as you want me, I’ll be here,” you promised, and meant it.

He studied you for a long time, searching for something. Apparently, he found what he was looking for because a small smile tugged at his lips and he nodded.

“Now, do you think it’s safe to stay out here with our little friend? Or should we head back home?” you asked, hoping to mask your apprehension with a light tone.

“Best head home while he’s not on our trail,” he decided.

You nodded and followed him down into the subway station. The ride home was blissfully uneventful. Elliot kept a sharp eye out, but didn’t see anyone who raised any alarms.

You passed the day lounging at Elliot’s place. You shifted between watching TV on your laptop, as he didn’t have a TV or cable, and eating some food you’d brought over from your place, as Elliot still had little to no food in his possession. 

It was still hot out, even with the blinds closed and most of the lights off. Elliot had complained about the heat and taken off his shirt almost as soon as you had returned home. It probably hadn’t helped that he had had his sweatshirt zipped, and his hood up the entire time, but watching him undress, seeing the smooth expanse of skin reveal itself before you, you weren’t complaining.

You had taken off your sweatshirt as well, but left your tank top on. Elliot flopped on the bed, and you joined him. You couldn’t help but nestle up next to him despite the heat generated by your combined bodies. 

After you’d settled down under a few fans for a while, it wasn’t so bad. The sweat on his skin had cooled, and as you listened to the videos play on your laptop, you watched your own fingers tracing lines on his chest and abs. He seemed utterly content, breathing evenly and even humming in appreciation when your fingers traced a particularly pleasant piece of his chest.

As the time came to get ready, you pulled yourself away from him to go back to your apartment. While you were excited to stun him with the combination of your dress, hair, and makeup, you were equally excited to see him in his suit. There was something about a well dressed man that made you crazy.

With careful attention to detail, you got dressed. You did your hair in loose curls and created a nice smokey eye paired with a red lipstick. It wasn’t often you got to dress up like this, and now seemed as good a time as any to pull out all the stops.

Glancing over yourself in the mirror, remembering how Elliot had nearly torn this dress off of you, you smiled. There was that extra something in your image again, and you loved it. Despite the fact that someone had been following you today, you didn’t feel unsafe with Elliot. You trusted him, and were serious when you promised him you’d see it through with him.

You locked the door behind you as you stepped out into the hallway, hearing that Elliot was doing so simultaneously. 

The gasps from the two of you were both audible as you took in each other’s appearances.

Elliot’s suit fit him like a glove. His pants were the perfect length, and hung around his legs with the perfect tightness. His shoes were flawless and shiny, his white shirt was perfectly pressed. He didn’t wear a tie, but his jacket made his ensemble look more formal. He had even styled his hair with more care than usual. 

It took him longer than your assessment to take in all of you. He started at your heels, laced his way up your legs, your dress, your cleavage, all the way up to your eyes. He smiled widely, and there was hunger in his eyes. 

“You look… hot,” he laughed, unable to summon a more elegant word. But he wasn’t wrong.

You chuckled.

“As do you, Mr. Alderson,” you teased, walking to him and pressing yourself against his chest. 

He wrapped the hand that wasn’t holding the bottle of wine around your waist, resting on the exposed skin of the small of your back. You kissed him and closed your eyes, letting your head spin before you pulled back.

He looked at you with a dreamy expression after the kiss, and it took your words for him to blink himself out of it.

“Should we go?” you asked. 

He bit his lip like he was considering sweeping you inside and undoing all the work you’d done getting ready, but instead he nodded. 

You grabbed a taxi and headed uptown to his boss’ place. Gideon, he had informed you, lived with his longtime partner and had been trying to get Elliot over to his place forever. 

“Why have you never gone before?” you asked. He didn’t seem to dislike his boss with the way he talked about him.

Elliot shrugged.

“Never felt a reason to,” he said.

“And now there’s a reason?” you asked.

He looked you over again, head to toe, and nodded, pressing his lips to your forehead as if that explained everything. 

It didn’t take long to get to Gideon’s, and you rode the elevator up to the second floor. It let out onto a hallway, and Elliot led you to the end of it. There was a large metal sliding door, surrounded by beautiful exposed brick walls. Angela and a man were already standing outside the door, waiting. They heard you and turned. 

Angela’s smile seemed genuine enough. She was wearing a red dress that fit her body well. The man beside her blatantly checked you out, his eyes nearly assaulting you so much you shifted uncomfortably. Elliot’s grip tightened around your waist, consciously or not, you didn’t know.

You approached them, and Angela held out her arms to hug you, as if you hadn’t only awkwardly met once. You tried your best not to cringe as you hugged her, still feeling the male’s stare on you. When you pulled away, she introduced her companion.

“Hi, this is Ollie,” Angela said, gesturing to the man.

He wasn’t unattractive, but there was something about him that immediately put you off. You held out your hand and he shook it, but also went in for a kiss on the cheek. You had to stop yourself from backing up as he did so, and instead stiffened. Elliot’s hand never faltered from your waist.

“Where have you been hiding her?” Ollie asked.

You could feel the distaste radiating off of Elliot. So you weren’t alone in hating this dude, then.

“Nowhere,” he answered, offering nothing more.

Ollie’s fake smile faltered only slightly at Elliot’s clearly apathetic tone.

“Well, I’m glad she’s come out tonight. And you, man!” he clapped Elliot on the shoulder. Elliot grimaced.

When he said nothing, the awkward silence began to grow, and you couldn’t take it.

“Should we knock?” you suggested?

Angela nodded and smiled.

“We were just waiting for you,” she said.

Ollie knocked four times on the door and you all waited in silence as you heard footsteps coming closer. The door opened, and an older man with gray hair and a beard appeared.

“You made it!” the man explained as he motioned for all of you to come inside. He seemed most focused and pleased with Elliot’s presence. “I’m Gideon,” he said, holding out his hand to you, the only person who didn’t know him. Then, turning to Elliot, “Would you like to introduce your girlfriend?” he asked.

You blushed at the label, and smiled at him. You liked him already, he was direct and charming.

Elliot’s fingers twitched against your hand and you squeezed his hand reassuringly. He gave your name to them as if he were betraying some kind of secret, like he didn’t want to share you at all with these people.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Gideon said, his eyes brimming with excitement. 

Another, younger man rounded the kitchen island to meet the group of people assembled in his kitchen.

“Harry,” he said by way of greeting, holding out his hand to you first, and then the rest of the group. He smiled, and turned to give Gideon a quick peck on the cheek before returning to his kitchen.

The easiness of their intimacy warmed you. You felt Elliot shift, taking his hand out of yours in favor of standing behind you and sliding his hands onto the curve of your hips, slightly pressing you back into him. You leaned against him, feeling his chin hovering over your head. Perhaps he was using you to shield him from all these people he was afraid of. Afraid wasn’t the right word, you knew, but still, he certainly did not want to have to interact with them without you.

Ollie had started up some shop talk and Gideon did his best to nod and engage him despite his obvious desire to change topics. He kept looking at you, as if he was checking up on you to see if you were having fun. 

You couldn’t see Elliot’s face, for he was still behind you, but he didn’t seem particularly bored or uneasy. He felt relaxed behind you, his breath even. Harry was busy cooking, listening and chiming in every once in awhile.

You had gathered around the kitchen island, Elliot staying close behind you as you moved to watch Harry cooking. Ollie continued to drone on about cyber security. Gideon cut Ollie off mid-sentence and turned to you.

“All this work jargon, and we haven’t even asked you what you do,” Gideon said, a smug smile on his lips from successfully ending Ollie’s incessant talking.

You pressed back into Elliot, uncomfortable with everyone’s eyes suddenly on you.

“Oh, um, I just work at the coffee shop near my apartment,” you mumbled. 

Despite your pedestrian occupation, Gideon smiled and seemed intrigued.

“You must meet some interesting characters,” he mused. You chuckled, feeling more at ease with his easy question.

“Yeah,” you admitted. “There definitely are those few that stand out every once in awhile.”

“Is that how you two met?” Harry asked, placing a few plates on the kitchen island.

“No,” you shook your head. “We live across the hall from each other.”

“Oh,” Harry smiled and winked at Elliot.

“How long have you two been together then?” Gideon asked. 

You shifted uncomfortably. Elliot had only asked you to be his girlfriend the previous evening, but it felt like you’d been together longer than that. Longer than the few weeks you had known him, even.

You leaned back to glance up at Elliot for his opinion on the matter.

“A few weeks,” he answered.

You blushed, happy that he felt the same way you did.

“The honeymoon stage,” Ollie observed, taking a sip from his beer.

You felt Elliot tense as Ollie smiled at you, his hands gripping your hips a little tighter. You shrugged.

“Feels like we’ve kind of always been this way,” you admitted.

“That’s sweet,” Angela said genuinely. Her eyes shined as she glanced at Elliot. 

“And the two of you?” Harry asked of Angela.

“Two years,” she answered.

“Two and a half,” Ollie corrected her. 

She turned to him with a warning glance, but said nothing.

“How about you?” you asked Gideon before her annoyance could make things awkward.

“Five years,” Gideon said with a hint of nostalgia.

“Yeah, I don’t know how I put up with him for so long,” Harry grinned widely, wrapping his arm around his partner.

Gideon chuckled and kissed him. 

“How about that food?” he asked Harry. 

“See what I mean? So bossy,” Harry rolled his eyes at you and you chuckled.

Harry loaded the plate with vegetable paella and you each took a plate to bring out to the table they had set up on their balcony. The city lights spread out below you and the summer wind blew lightly, kissing your skin with its coolness.

Elliot had taken his hands off of you, but not before Gideon had essentially forced him to take his plate. He stayed close to you, carrying his food over and sitting down next to you. Normally, anyone else being this clingy would be unbearable. But you found you needed him as much as he needed you. You weren’t well versed in social situations either, and being around new people was always nerve wracking. 

Compliments were given out as the food was tasted and enjoyed. A few bottles of wine were opened, and by the end of the meal you were a little drunk. Elliot had only taken a few sips of his wine to be polite, but had mostly stuck with water. He had slipped his hand onto your thigh at the beginning of the meal as if he were afraid you’d run and leave him alone with these people.

After helping load up the dishwasher, the party lingered around the kitchen. 

“Elliot, could I talk to you for a second?” Ollie asked in a low whisper. 

You only heard because Elliot had resumed his position behind you. He tensed. Ollie smiled placatingly at you and returned his attention to Elliot.

“I’ll be fine,” you assured him, sure that Ollie wouldn’t quit until he had said whatever he wanted to say to Elliot and wanting to get it over.

Elliot sighed and followed Ollie back out onto the balcony.

“Male bonding,” Angela shrugged as she passed you to deposit a bowl in the dishwasher.

You watched the two for a moment, noting Elliot’s defensive body language and Ollie’s forced smile. You couldn’t hear them, but were debating trying to save Elliot from him when Gideon appeared at your side.

“You’re a miracle worker,” he said, watching Elliot with you.

You turned with an eyebrow raised. He laughed.

“I just mean that in the past few weeks, Elliot’s been a changed man.”

You didn’t know what to say, or if that this alleged change actually was because of you.

“Do you know that I’ve asked Elliot to my place probably twenty times, and he has never accepted?” Gideon asked, amused. 

You weren’t surprised, but still, it did say something about you that he came this time.

“And the other day, he was drinking  _ Starbucks, _ ” Gideon said, with mock shock. You chuckled.

“I think he was just… lonely,” you said. 

Gideon gave a sad smile. 

“We all need someone to help us feel less alone,” he said. 

When you looked back at the balcony, Elliot was turning to go inside, leaving a dumbstruck Ollie behind him. As he came closer, you saw the smirk on his face and wondered what he could have said to Ollie to earn that.

Wrapping himself around you once again, and sliding his hands to meet around your stomach, he sighed. He kissed your temple lightly but froze when he noticed the way Gideon was looking at the two of you. He wasn’t openly gaping, but it was close. It was if he was seeing some kind of extinct animal. He collected himself once he realized you’d noticed his reaction. Elliot had been hanging on you all evening, so you weren’t sure why this was so noteworthy to him. Perhaps it was the kiss. 

“Dessert?” he asked to fill the empty air.

You nodded enthusiastically. Harry prepared some ice cream which you all ate standing around the kitchen island.

Elliot refused the ice cream in favor of hanging onto your hips again. He seemed to draw strength from fusing his skin with yours, as if he were recharging from being separated for a few moments. His thumbs traced patterns that you felt through your dress. You reveled in the flavor of the ice cream and listened to Gideon tell a story about when he went traveling in Europe.

“Let’s get out of here,” Elliot whispered in your ear, so softly you almost thought it was just the wind. 

You nodded, feeling the shivers caused by his breath run down your spine. You were growing rather tired of maintaining an entertained facade. It would be a relief to go home and let your hair down, relax with Elliot.

As Gideon finished up his story, there was a lull, and you took full advantage of it.

“Well, I think we’re going to call it a night,” you said, doing your best to sound like you’d had a great time and were sad to leave. You had had a decent time for sure, despite catching Ollie ogling your cleavage a few times. Gideon was truly a great host.

“Aw, already?” Harry asked, tilting his head to the side and frowning. “You’re going to leave us alone with these two?” he joked, but you sensed he would rather have you and Elliot stay than Angela and Ollie.

“Sorry,” Elliot said with a half smile. “It was fun, though.”

The group looked at him with mild shock which they tried to hide with smiles and nods. 

“We’ll do it again some time,” you added, walking up to Gideon.

Elliot stayed where he was as you gave Gideon a hug. 

He kissed you on the cheek and whispered, “Take care of him.”

You nodded slightly and smiled, moving on to hug Harry. 

“You’re my favorite,” he whispered. You chuckled.

“Of what?” you asked. 

“Of all of them,” he flicked his eyes over to the crowd gathered beyond earshot. 

You winked at him and went over to Angela and Ollie.

“It was good to meet you,” Ollie said. 

You were going to shake his hand, but he pulled you into a tight hug, his hands a little low on your back for your liking. You tried to pull away, but he held you there for just a beat longer than necessary. You gave Angela a quick hug, hurrying to get back to Elliot.

Elliot simply waved to everyone as his goodbye, and no one objected. He slid his arm around your waist as you said goodbye once more and left the apartment. You wondered what everyone would say about the two of you as soon as you left.

Once outside the apartment and into the elevator, Elliot hugged you tightly. He seemed to be saying thank you.

“How exhausted are you?” you chided, knowing that introverts like the two of you needed space after something like that.

“Very,” he admitted, keeping you in his embrace.

“Gideon seemed nice,” you smiled. “Ollie’s a little…” you made a face instead of choosing a word.

Although he didn’t see your face, as it was nestled in his chest, he knew what you meant.

“I hate him,” he admitted. “But he’s not as bad as the others, and I can manage him better.”

“I’m not sure Angela is the only woman on his mind,” you commented. 

He pulled away to look at you. 

“I didn’t like the way he looked at you,” he said seriously. 

“Me either,” you agreed.

“It made me… It made me uncomfortable, angry,” he said, like he was feeling and trying to understand these emotions for the first time.

“Well, I’m pretty happy with my boyfriend,” you blushed using the term for the first time. “So he can fuck off.”

Elliot smirked and kissed you gently.

“Thank you for coming with me,” he said. 

“Of course,” you answered.

He looked at you for a long moment as the elevator creaked to a stop. 

Before you got out, he said, “You make me want to be more normal.”

The few people standing at the open door waiting for you to get out did not seem amused at this statement.

You quickly grabbed Elliot’s hand and pulled him out of the elevator so the other people could get on. You walked out of the building and onto the sidewalk.

“What do you mean, more normal?” you asked.

He shrugged and smiled a little.

“I don’t know, like maybe  I'll go see those stupid Marvel movies, or join a gym. I'll ‘heart’ things on Instagram. I'll drink vanilla lattes,” he listed things he thought “normal” people did.

You frowned.

“What, you don’t want me to be normal?” he asked.

“I want you to be you,” you said seriously. 

Although his tone had been light, and he had seemed happy with his plan for normalcy, he looked at you solemnly now.

“Really?” he asked.

“Of course,” you said. “Why is that strange to you, that I’d want you to be yourself?”

He shrugged and said, “I’ve never met anyone else who wanted that.”

And you realized then that this was part of the reason he had built his maze around himself. Everyone was constantly trying to change him, to make him less antisocial, or more “normal,” so he had had to protect himself. But now, here he was, trying to make you happy by offering this to you. You didn’t know how to convince him that you didn’t want him to be “normal,” so you just kissed him and poured all of your feelings for him into the kiss.

When your lips parted, and you looked at him, you knew you had seen something just then in his eyes that likely no one else had had the privilege of.

You stayed close during the cab ride, walking nearly in unison into his apartment. His hands pressed you to him, resting on your lower back, bare from the low cut of the dress. You had kissed him just before he opened the door, and the two of you seemed inseparable now, as if your hearts were tied together by string.

He pushed you against the wall, sliding his hands up your dress as his tongue entered your mouth. Your breath mingled in the warm night air and you felt him slide off your panties. He grabbed your hips and swung you around, never parting his lips from yours, as you blindly walked backwards towards the bed. Nearly panting now, he broke the kiss to rid himself of his shirt. He unbuttoned it quickly and revealed his bare chest beneath as he flung the shirt to the ground. You waited impatiently for him on the bed, sliding back towards the middle. He climbed on top of you and kissed you again feverishly. Now that you were inside his perfect maze, you were  _ his,  _ and he was  _ yours. _

You belonged to each other in a way you’d never belonged to or with anyone else. When he gently slid you out of your dress, when he bared himself to you, you felt like you were already one with him. When he slid inside you, filling you up, when your moans hung in the air and wrapped around each other, you realized you’d never felt this way about anyone before.

His hands gripped your hips tightly as he pumped in and out of you, his lips finding yours every so often as the feeling inside you began to grow.

He watched you unravel beneath him, and smiled as you shrieked his name, digging your nails into his shoulders. He came right then, as you tighten your legs around him, and you bit his lower lip before kissing him as he relaxed.

He looked at you, and you at him. He laid beside you, lifting his arm up for you to come and rest your head on his chest. Your heart was still beating so loud and fiercely you thought it might explode. You could hear his heart too, its rhythm steadying out as he breathed in deeply.

“Fuck,” he breathed. You chuckled.

“Yeah,” you agreed.

There was a silence that stretched between you. It seemed unbreakable until Elliot spoke again.

“This is good,” he said simply. You furrowed your brow, confused at his tone. It didn’t suggest that the statement was positive. He continued, “So good, it scratched that part of my mind, part that doesn't allow good to exist without condition.”

You shifted up onto your elbow to look at him.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

He brushed a piece of hair back behind your ear and looked at you kindly.

“Nothing good ever happens to me for long,” he said.

He was saying all of this so casually, as if it didn’t rip small holes in your heart to hear him talk like he didn’t deserve these things that he wanted, like he didn’t deserve  _ you _ .

“The last person who knew me, who understood me, died,” he explained. 

“I’m not going to die,” you assured him. “Not for a long time.”

He smiled sardonically.

“Maybe not, but there are other ways of losing you. And I think it’s only a matter of time.” When you didn’t respond for a moment he added, “I’m sorry if that sounded rude, I was just being honest.”

“It wasn’t rude,” you said. “Just… sad.”

You kissed him, trying to take away that outlook and replace it with one where you were always by his side. When you parted, he still looked worried and bit his lower lip.

“Elliot,” you said his name softly, savoring each sound it made. “You deserve to be happy. You won’t have to be alone again, I promise,” you said.

Echos of those nights you had heard him crying through the walls came back to haunt you then. You pressed your forehead to his and closed your eyes. When you pulled away, you wiped the tears away from his cheeks and kissed him once more.

And one more time, you assured him, “You’ll never have to be alone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if anything with Gideon/people was off. I've only seen the series once so far, so I'm sorry if I didn't remember details correctly.


	6. Chapter 6

You awoke to a ringing sound that was unfamiliar to you. Opening your eyes, you felt the bed shift as Elliot got up to retrieve the source of the sound.

“Hello?” he whispered, apparently unaware that you were awake.

You blinked and rolled to face him. He was completely naked from the previous evening, and the morning light made him a mere silhouette. You traced his body with your eyes, trying to memorize every curve. 

“Yeah, I can. Okay, bye,” he said, and hung up.

Turning around, he was mildly surprised to see you up and looking at him.

“Who was that?” you asked, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You realized now that you weren’t covered by any sheets, and felt mildly embarrassed to be so exposed in the morning light. Elliot’s eyes followed the outline of your body as you had just done to his, and he smiled, a hint of regret in his eyes.

“I have to go,” he said. 

“Isn’t it Sunday?” you asked, suddenly wondering if you’d somehow missed a day and were meant to be at work.

He nodded. 

“An emergency I guess. It shouldn’t take me more than an hour, though.”

You could see that he was reluctant to leave you. You pouted. 

“Okay,” you conceded, sitting up and looking around for your clothes.

“I’m just going to hop in the shower. You’re welcome to stay here while I’m gone,” he offered. “I’d, um, like to come home to you,” he said sheepishly, not meeting your eyes.

You blushed. He kissed you quickly and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. You needed a shower too, but you also needed a change of clothes. Luckily that was right across the hall. The shower turned on, and you laid back in Elliot’s bed, staring up at the ceiling, smiling. 

It wasn’t that sex was the end all be all of a relationship, but something about the closeness you had shared with him as you unraveled each other last night made you happy. You realized you should probably get some stuff from your place if you were going to be spending some time alone in here.

You grabbed your dress from the floor, and frowned at it, not wanting to put it back on just for the walk across the hall. Your eyes drifted to Elliot’s dress shirt which lay on the ground next to it. Tentatively, you picked it up and smelled it. Elliot’s scent engulfed you as if he were standing behind you. Flashes of the previous evening came to you as you remembered Elliot’s hands on your waist, Gideon's kind eyes and his reassuring comments.

Deciding that Elliot’s shirt was far more inviting than your tight dress for the short walk back to your place, you wrapped it around you and buttoned it up. It fell just below your butt, and you smiled to yourself as you happened a glance in the mirror. You scooted back over to your apartment and grabbed what you would need for the few hours Elliot would be away. Then, you hustled back over, encountering no one in the hallway.

As you were closing the door behind you, Elliot’s bathroom door opened and he emerged, a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair slick with water. A drop fell from a loose strand and ran down his bare chest. You had to resist running to him and licking it clean off that beautiful expanse of skin.

He saw you and stopped in his tracks. For a moment you wondered if he was bothered by your borrowing his shirt.

“Sorry,” you quickly apologized. “I just didn’t want to squeeze back into my dress while I went to get some stuff.”

He blinked and shook his head, smiling.

“No it’s fine,” he said. “I like you in my shirt.”

He liked you in his shirt, in his apartment, places you were relatively sure that no one else had gained access to.

“Thanks,” you blushed. 

Your eyes drifted down to his healing wound. He hadn’t complained or shown any signs of discomfort lately, and you were pleased to see he seemed to be healing up just fine. Keeping his eyes on you as he crossed the room to his dresser, he only glanced away to find clothes. He flung off the towel and seemed completely unphased as you watched him change. When he had pulled his hood over his head, completing his ensemble, he walked carefully over to you, as if he were afraid you were some woodland creature that would scare easily.

“You’ll be here when I get back?” he half asked, half confirmed.

You nodded and smiled.

“Sure,” you said. “Now go save the world or whatever their emergency is.”

He gave you a small smile and kissed your forehead before heading out the door.

Once you were alone in the space, it felt different. You wondered if you would have left Elliot alone at your place. Not that you had anything particularly secretive or embarrassing that you wouldn’t want him to find, but the idea of anyone at your place without you was foreign. You realized then, how much he trusted you. This person, who never let anyone into his most benign thoughts was letting you stay alone with the most physical representation of himself that he had. Of course you weren’t going to snoop, but the temptation was there. Still, he had trusted you, and you weren’t going to ignore that. The only time you’d opened anything was the bedside table in search of a pen, finding that the morphine pills still lay untouched at the bottom of the drawer.

Snuggling up on the bed with your laptop, you decided to catch up on some shows. You didn’t change out of Elliot’s dress shirt, and instead felt completely comfortable in it, lounging on the bed as your shows played.

A few hours later, you heard the door open as Elliot returned. Thinking he’d be tired from dealing with a stressful situation, you were surprised to find that he seemed rather excited. His eyes were bright and he was smiling as he entered. You got up to greet him, tasting his lips and feeling his energy rolling off of him. 

“So what was the emergency?” you asked. 

Elliot began a large, jumbled sentence full of jargon you had no hope of understanding. Seeing your uncomprehending features he explained it to you in layman's terms.

“Basically a bug got into All Safe’s security system and no one knew how to deal with it,” he said. “Except me.”   
The pride in his voice was atypical. It wasn’t so much pride that he had saved his company from a catastrophe, but rather that he’d solved the puzzle, stopped the bug before it could stop him.

“Congratulations,” you smiled. “How bad was it?”

“Could have wrecked the entire company, emptied thousands of bank accounts, stolen just as many identities, and probably ended quite a few lives,” he said with strange satisfaction.

“Who would try such a scheme?” you asked. 

His eyes flickered with something devious for a moment, but he shook his head.

“I don’t know,” he said. 

This was perhaps the first time you could tell he was lying. Maybe he wasn’t allowed to share under some confidentiality agreement. Or maybe he just didn’t want to say.

“Huh, well, good they they’ve got you,” you said, deciding not to dwell.

“Gideon asked about you,” Elliot said, offhandedly as he caressed your sides and let his hands rest on your hips. 

“That was nice of him. How is he?” you asked. 

“Just happy it’s all over,” Elliot said. 

“I bet.”

The rest of the day was spent lazily making love, browsing the internet, and rummaging for any remnants of food that Elliot had hidden away.

When he offered for you to stay the night, you agreed, taking everything you’d need for the morning from your apartment before settling in for the night with Elliot. As he wrapped himself around you before you fell asleep, you wondered when it was that you two had become so in sync. It seemed that in the beginning of your relationship you could barely guess what he was thinking. But now, only a few weeks in, you were starting to understand how he operated, how his brain worked. Perhaps it was because, in a strange way, you were similar to him. 

Your alarm woke the two of you up in the morning, and despite Elliot’s best attempts to pull you back into bed with him, you got up and went to work, leaving the very enticingly naked Elliot behind you.

Work went swimmingly. There were no creepy customers, and you were able to manage and command your staff like an army. Paul, your boss, was definitely impressed with your work, and you were glad to reinforce his decision to give you a promotion. Although it wasn’t your dream job, it was better than your last position and the pay was definitely better.

It seemed like the day flew by, and you walked into your apartment with a smile on your face. Your bills didn’t seem so ominous now, and with Elliot right there, you didn’t feel as unsafe as you once did all alone in this apartment. 

Not a half hour after you’d arrived home, you heard a knock on the door. You stopped stuffing your face with the pasta you’d made and got up to look through the keyhole. Elliot was standing there, hood down, staring up at the peephole. The distortion from the glass in the peephole made his eyes look even bigger somehow, more innocent than perhaps they were.

You gladly opened the door and let him in. Had he been waiting for you to get home, or had he just gotten home himself? You opened the door and stepped aside.

“There’s more pasta in the pot,” you told him, licking some sauce off your finger.

He said nothing, and didn’t take any pasta, choosing instead to simply walk in and stare at you.

“What?” you laughed, when the silence continued.

He shrugged and took a few steps toward you.

“Just missed you today,” he said softly, like a secret.

Then, without warning, he rushed to you, wrapped his arms tightly around you and kissed you. If you were to have walked in on this scene as someone else, you would have thought one of you had just come home from a war. Your momentary surprise passed, and you kissed him back, soon fueled by the fire that propelled his body against yours. Blindly pushing him back towards the bedroom, unknowing where this sudden need for your body had come from, and uncaring, you followed his lead as you stripped off your clothes and clung to each other. 

His warm breath brushed along your body as he laid you down on the bed. He seemed eager, motivated even, to please you. Running his hands along your sides as he went down on you, you tilted your head back and gasped at his vigorous pace. In no time he had you squirming beneath him, and just before you came, he stopped, changing position to hover over your entrance. Plunging into you, you shrieked his name as you held on to him, trying to meet his frantic pace with your hips. 

It didn’t take long for him to unravel inside you, as his lips tasted yours. When he rolled over and laid on his back, hands behind his head, you could almost feel the pride radiating off of him. It was as though someone had challenged him to this, and he had followed through.

You chuckled and rolled over to look at him. He gave you a glance, and smiled. 

“What was that?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he answered nonchalantly.

“That wasn’t nothing,” you challenged him. “That was… did something happen while I was at work?” you asked, thinking of the emergency the previous day.  

He shrugged. 

“Not really.”

Although it didn’t feel like a lie, you could tell there was something he wasn’t telling you.

“Alright,” you shrugged. You weren’t going to try to force anything out of him.

Still steadying your breathing, you laid on your back and stared up at the ceiling. That stain was still there. You’d been at Elliot’s so much lately, you’d forgotten about it. Somehow, it didn’t bother you as much as it once had. With Elliot, the apartment didn’t seem so dingy or unsafe. With him here, it felt more like a home, rather than just a space to live.

You snuggled up next to Elliot who gladly wrapped his arm around you as you laid your head on his chest. Listening to his even heartbeat, you fell asleep.

When you woke, it wasn’t to an alarm, or even a voice, it was because Elliot had flinched. At first, you thought it was just in reaction to some dream. However, as you woke, you felt the air around you was tense. Opening your eyes, you felt Elliot shift beneath you, sliding you off of him and moving in front of you. You pulled the sheet around you as you sat up, blinking and trying to understand what time it was and what was happening.

When you saw the man, you flinched just as Elliot had. Sitting in a chair he had pulled over from your desk, sat a blonde haired man. Elliot’s back blocked some of your view of him, as he had positioned himself between the two of you. You shuffled to hide behind him even more, and peered out over his shoulder.

The man was sitting casually, no visible weapon in sight. His head was cocked to one side, and he looked as though he were studying primates in an enclosure. His blue eyes caught the moonlight and appeared almost gray.

“Good, you’re up,” he said evenly, as if it were normal to be sitting in a stranger’s bedroom watching two naked people sleep. 

You pulled the sheets up around you to better cover yourself despite the fact that Elliot was blocking most of you from this man.

“W-What are you doing here?” Elliot stuttered.

He hadn’t asked who the man was. He already knew.

“You didn’t answer my calls,” he said plainly. “I made you an offer if you remember.”

“I remember,” Elliot answered. “I said no.”

The man turned his head swiftly to look at Elliot.

“I didn’t  _ like _ your answer,” he responded.

Elliot tensed, the muscles in his back straining. The man rose and looked around Elliot right at you. In those eyes was something terrifying. It was as though a tornado was being restrained behind a sheet of paper.

You were trembling despite yourself. Your hand found Elliot’s and held on tightly, not sure what you should do in reaction to this man. He didn’t have a weapon, and yet you were sure he didn’t need one. He was wearing a suit of all things, too. Perhaps it was a businessman who wanted Elliot’s expertise for some illegal doings?

The anger in the man’s eyes quelled as he looked at you for a few moments.

“We haven’t been introduced,” he said, moving to hold out his hand to you. “My name is Tyrell Wellick.”

You made no move to shake his hand. Instead of getting angry, as you assumed he would, he simply held up his hands in surrender and backed away.

“I grant you this is a strange way to meet, but I had to see what Elliot’s reason was for not taking the job.”

“It has nothing to do with her,” Elliot barked at him.

Tyrell shook his head.

“I don’t think that’s true, Elliot, I just don’t,” he said. His eyes drifted to Elliot’s healing bullet wound. “I am sorry about that,” he added, pointing to the scab.

“You’re the one who shot him?” you asked angrily.

Tyrell laughed.

“No, and I specifically said  _ not _ to use force when contacting him. I know you spook easily,” he added for Elliot’s benefit. “But, not to worry. That has been dealt with.”

The look in his eye made you believe the man responsible for shooting Elliot was no longer alive. You swallowed hard. This was a powerful and dangerous man.

Tyrell’s eyes strayed to your entwined hands, and he smirked. 

“Does she know?” he asked Elliot.

Elliot flinched. 

“I know what you’re trying to do,” he said. “It won’t work. I will never work for Evil Corp.”

So that’s where he was from.

“Do I know what?” you couldn’t resist.

Tyrell’s eyes sparkled.

“Do you know how you got your little promotion?” he asked condescendingly.

“I, I don’t know, worked hard?” you guessed. 

“Stop,” Elliot warned him.

“Or what?” Tyrell rolled his eyes. “Anyway, that’s not why I came here. Just, reconsider my offer, or the next time I stop by here,” he gestured to your room. “I won’t be so friendly.”

His false smile fell to a stone mask in an instant, and he walked to the door.

“Sweet dreams,” he said, before walking out and closing the door behind him. 

You didn’t move until you heard the door to your apartment close and footsteps going down the main stairs. You quickly shuffled to meet Elliot’s dread-filled face.

“What the actual fuck?” you had to keep yourself from screaming. Your hands were still shaking, and you’d removed your hand from his as soon as Tyrell left.

“I don’t know where to start,” Elliot admitted. 

“From the fucking beginning!” your voice broke.

Elliot sighed.

“You’re not going to like it.”

“I don’t care,”  you said. “Some crazy person just broke into my apartment and threatened me. Tell me what is going on.”

“Evil Corp,” Elliot said as if it explained everything. He saw your impatient features and continued. “Evil Corp was the emergency the other day. But it wasn’t an emergency, it was a test. And I passed.”

“A test for what?”

“To see if I was good enough to stop their best programmer,” he said. “And now he wants me on their team.”

“But you hate Evil Corp,” you said.

“I know,” he agreed.

“But they still want you,” you guessed. “And at any cost.”

He nodded.

“That’s scary,” you wrapped your arms around yourself. Tyrell’s words came back to you. “What did he mean by asking how I got my promotion?” you asked.

Elliot grimaced.

“I may have hacked your boss and leveraged some information for you,” he said. “But not just you, some of your co-workers too. I didn’t make it obvious that I was helping you,” he added. 

“You shouldn’t have done that,” you said, half angry, half grateful. 

Not that you prided yourself on your abilities to perform menial tasks, but you thought you’d gotten that promotion from your hard work and organization, not Elliot blackmailing someone for you.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know you worry about money and I wanted to help.”

The pleading tone was dripping from his voice and weighing in his eyes. He wanted you to understand. 

“Jesus, do you hack  _ everyone _ ?” you asked as a half-hearted joke.

When he didn’t say anything you looked at him closely. Guilt was flooding his face.

“Elliot… did you hack  _ me _ ?” you asked, wrapping the sheet around yourself and getting up from the bed, putting distance between you as though that would change the answer you knew he would give.

“Yes,” he said simply. 

He must have known that was wrong, because he didn’t meet your eyes. Although he had said before that he didn’t think about it when he hacked people, or think of how ethical it was to use that information, you could see that he knew now, at least with you.

There were so many things that bothered you about this. Granted, it had only been when he met you, perhaps even when you’d moved in and hadn’t known each other, but still. There were things you did on your computer, on the internet, that you only did for you. Knowing that Elliot had seen even just your google searched was enough to make your face scarlet. Lord knew what else he could dig up from the rest of your online life.

What if something had gone wrong with the two of you? Would he have used that information against you?

“What the hell?” you finally yelled once you’d collected your thoughts.

“I didn’t mean-- I do it with everyone I meet,” Elliot tried to defend himself. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” you nearly screamed. “Why would you do that, Elliot?”

“Because!” he screamed back. You’d never heard his voice this loud, this angry. “I’m not normal! I can’t just get to know someone, I can’t just have a conversation with someone and find these things out. I can’t do that with people,” he said, calming down with each sentence. “Except for you.”

So hacking was his way of dealing with his social anxieties and quirks. Still, it didn’t excuse the extreme invasion of privacy. He reached for you, but you stepped back and he dropped his hand.

“You don’t know what it’s like to be in my head,” he said distantly. “It’s… maddening sometimes.”

“When did you hack me?” you asked quietly, trying to ignore the urge to run and hold him.

“When you moved in,” he said, confirming your suspicion. You nodded.

“What did you find?” you made yourself ask.

Elliot looked up at you.

“That you’re a good person,” he said plainly.

You laughed incredulously.

“And what would I find if I hacked you?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he answered simply. 

“I didn’t mean literally,” you spat, surprised at the anger in your voice. He flinched.

Running his hand through his hair, he took a deep breath.

“Um, you’d find a recovering drug addict with trust issues and social anxiety,” he said robotically. 

He seemed to be rocking back and forth as if trying to calm himself.

As much as you understood where he was coming from, you still felt incredibly violated. You didn’t know why you hadn’t considered this before. You knew how easily he hacked people. He had hacked that guy that harassed you on the street for God’s sake. He didn’t even  _ know _ him.

“I need some time to think,” you said, putting your head in your hands.

When you looked up, Elliot was getting dressed, his eyes red. 

“I’ll… I’ll come over eventually,” you heard yourself say.

Your voice sounded small and far away. You didn’t know why you said it, you weren’t sure if it were true. As much as you still felt that pull towards Elliot, the violation of your privacy was no small offence, despite when it had happened in your timeline.

He seemed to be shaking as he left, perhaps holding in the sobs that you too felt building in your chest. He didn’t say anything as he left, and you couldn’t hear anything from across the hall after his door closed.

Pacing your room, you tried to sort through everything that had just happened. Elliot had seen your entire life, essentially. He’d seen emails and diary entries, pictures, and internet history. Not to mention the fact that someone who knew Elliot was now breaking into  _ your _ apartment in the middle of the night and threatening you.

Somehow it was different when it was Elliot getting shot at. You should have felt the danger when that man had followed you. Why had you been so blind? Why had you thought Elliot could protect you from these things when he was the reason for it?

And yet, the little voice in your head reminded you, not only had Elliot hacked you when he didn’t even know you, he had done so when he was feeling completely and utterly alone. He had hacked you during the periods that you had heard him crying through the walls. You couldn’t blame him for using the skills he had to try and feel less alone, even if it was an extreme invasion of privacy. And hadn’t you followed him down this rabbit hole regardless of the consequences? You couldn’t just say you had been blind to the danger. You hadn’t. You’d been blind to the risks. Because it was maybe worth it to be with him. Because he made  _ you _ feel less alone too.

Your mind warred between these conflicting feelings for the rest of the night, only letting you sleep for a few hours before you had to get up for work. And you were going to work. No way were you going to sit around alone in an apartment that was apparently easy to break into. You wanted to be around people for safety, but also for a distraction from your indecisive mind.

You didn’t even look at Elliot’s door when you left, nearly sprinting down the steps and out the door. At work, you tried to focus all of your energy on your customers and the employees under your watch. At times you were successful in pushing away the conflicting feelings about Elliot, but most of the time, you had to catch yourself from staring off into space, thinking.

You stayed on later than you’d planned, taking the shift of someone who wanted to leave early. You promised her it was fine, that you didn’t quite want to be at home just yet. In truth, you dreaded it. You even considered getting a hotel room or something, just to not be in there. However, you lacked the funds for such a luxury, and so clutched your pepper spray as you made the trek home in the dark.

The streets were quiet, and you walked quickly, suspecting every passing person of wanting to hurt you. You wondered if Elliot was always this paranoid too.

Within a block of your apartment, you had to stop yourself from sprinting. Although there was no one around, you still felt eyes on you, and you had always trusted your instincts. Your pepper spray was still in your hands, and your knuckles were white with the strain of clutching it.

Nearing the stoop of your apartment, you saw a hooded figure sitting on the steps with his head in his hands. 

“Elliot,” you started, before you felt two sets of hands around you. One wrapped around your mouth and chest, and another swept your legs out from under you, lifting you up.

Elliot watched with helpless wonder as you were snatched into a black van as quick as a blink of the eye. The doors slammed shut, and a cloth was placed over your mouth. The last thing you heard before you passed out, was Elliot screaming your name.


	7. Chapter 7

A bed. You were laying on a bed. That was your first thought as you tried to wake up. It felt like you were clawing your way to consciousness, swimming through thick water to get to the surface of your mind. 

Blinking, you took in the surrounding white walls covered with abstract art. It was day, and light flooded the large bedroom. The white sheets beneath you were so soft, you ran your hands over them as you tried to remember how you’d gotten here.

You flinched as the memory slammed against you. Someone had taken you right in front of Elliot, right off the street. 

You weren’t restrained. Perhaps there was no way out? But the door was open, leading out into what you assumed would be an apartment. Dare you go explore? Clearly your captors weren’t concerned with you leaving. You were not a threat.

You looked down at your body to assess the damage, if there was any. Thin bruises grazed your ribs, and it was then that you realized you weren’t wearing any clothes save for your bra and underwear. You swallowed hard. Someone had undressed you for some reason. Other than your unconscious violation and the bruises, nothing seemed to be damaged. Your head ached, but it wasn’t debilitating. Touching your forehead, you felt a tender spot, and dried blood.

Mustering up the courage to move, to find out where you were, you were halfway off of the bed when you heard a familiar voice.

“Sorry about the clothes,” Tyrell said, his eyes raking over your body as he smiled. “They needed a wash.” Probably from the blood that had come from your head when someone had apparently hit you.

He came forward and you scrunched up, pulling your knees to your chest and hugging them there. He was so… casual. It would have made you more comfortable if he was screaming at you, hitting you even. This unnatural calm was unsettling.

“Here,” he offered what looked like an evening dress to you. “It’s my wife’s.”

This man had a  _ wife? _

The gown was black with a deep neckline.

“No, thanks, I’ll just wait for my own clothes,” you said.    
Tyrell shrugged and laid the dress on the bed. He sat down next to you and sighed like he’d had a long day at the office and was about to tell his old friend all about it.

“Why am I here?” you asked before he could speak again.

He turned his bright eyes towards you, assessing your features.

“Leverage,” he said evenly. “I need a job done, and your boyfriend wasn’t cooperating.”

“He won’t do it for me,” you said, thinking of Elliot’s strong personal code. “He hates you and everything you stand for.”

Tyrell laughed and shook his head.

“Isn’t it funny?” he asked, standing up now. “You would have thought that no one could break that perfect code of his, but somehow, you squirmed your way in, bugging up his system.” He chuckled, reflecting on this. “He’ll do it,” he said decisively. 

You weren’t sure he would, and then what would happen to you? After everything you’d said to him, would he still care to save you from danger?

Tyrell’s phone rang and he picked it up without looking to see who it was. 

“Is it done?” he asked quietly, staring at you.

Your heart stopped beating. Was that Elliot on the line? The person responded, and Tyrell’s face fell into a look of contempt. 

“Fine,” he said, and stalked over to you, handing the phone to you. “He wants to know if you’re still alive. Speak.”

“Elliot,” you breathed.

You grabbed for the phone, but Tyrell took it back.

“She’s fine,” Tyrell said, then, looking over your bruises around your ribs, “For the most part.”

You could hear Elliot’s anger through the phone and Tyrell even pulled it away from his ear for a moment.

“Yes, well, now that you know, you can complete the job!” Tyrell screamed out of nowhere, making you jump. He adjusted his tie and then added quietly, “And if you don’t, far worse than bruises await her.” 

Tyrell calmly hung up, and placed the phone back in his pocket. If you could only get to it, or maybe even a landline, then you could call for help. You were sure he would have left no such helpful devices laying around, though.

“Can I get you anything to eat or drink?” he asked.

“How long am I going to be here?” you asked.

Tyrell shrugged.

“Depends on how fast Elliot can hack.”

So, not long then… hopefully.

“I’ll take some water,” you said, your voice somehow steady.

Tyrell left, and you did a quick search of the room, walking around to see if you could find anything that might be a useful weapon. You found nothing. Most of the drawers had been emptied, and nothing sufficient was lying around.

You glanced out the window, but, seeing the bars on it, decided against trying to jump out. Tyrell’s footsteps alerted his arrival, and you returned to sit on the bed before he came back into the room.

He handed you a cup of water and watched you carefully. You could smash the glass on the ground and try to stab him with a bigger piece, but you would likely hurt yourself in the process, and you were sure you couldn’t match him physically.

“So what’s Elliot doing for you anyway?” you asked, taking a tentative sip.

“Would you really understand?” he asked condescendingly.

No, probably not, but at least Elliot never assumed that. You rolled your eyes. You didn’t much care anyway as long as you made it out of here and never came back.

An almost awkward silence filled the air as you waited for Tyrell to either leave or say something. You could feel Tyrell’s eyes on you now, and turned to him, shifting away to put more distance between you.

“You’re beautiful,” Tyrell said. It was more like he was admitting something rather than complimenting you. You shifted uncomfortably. You weren’t about to thank him. “But that’s not it, is it?” he added, raising an eyebrow.

“Not what?” you asked.

His expression was neutral, but there was a strange lightness, almost childlike curiosity in his light blue eyes. He sat down on the bed, less than a foot from you.

“I know men like Elliot,” he said. Tilting his head a little to the side he conceded, “Not quite the same, but similar. Give a man a gun and he can rob a bank. Give a man a bank and he can rob the world,” he smiled slyly. “Elliot doesn’t want to rob anyone. But everyone wants something. What does he want, then?” He pretended to think, but had clearly already decided. He looked at you expectantly.

You swallowed hard. The answer was reflected in the dark pupils of his eyes.

“Me,” you said softly.

“You,” he nodded.

A warmth spread through you. As disconcerting as Tyrell’s presence was, the sentiment was strangely satisfying. Elliot could do anything he wanted with his skills. He could extort, blackmail, become the richest man in the world, probably. Yet here he was, living in a crappy apartment, just wanting to be close to you, for you to be safe.

“What about you?” you asked. “Is all you want your wife?”

Tyrell’s expression flashed something dark, ambitious. It reminded you of the look of a jungle cat right before it pounced on its prey.

“Of course,” he answered unconvincingly. 

“But also to rob the world?” you guessed.

He smirked.

“I like you,” he said.

You forced the bile back down your throat at this. You were just waiting for that flare of anger to burst out of him at any moment. He had gone from zero to mach two in no time at all before.

“You know, Elliot thinks he can play God, that he can save the world, that it’s his to save in the first place. I don’t think that. I think power belongs to those who aren’t afraid to take it.”

“You think Elliot’s afraid of power?” you asked.

Tyrell let out a low laugh.

“I think he’s afraid of himself,” he answered.

“Aren’t we all,” you murmured almost to yourself.

Tyrell mused on this while you watched him. You wondered about the woman who would willingly tether herself to such a volatile man. You couldn’t imagine what she was like.

For a moment, you had almost forgotten you were being held hostage here. Tyrell had been so calm, and the two of you had talked about a familiar subject. You had to remind yourself to stay on edge.

Tyrell’s eyes skimmed your ribs where your bruises lay, and the small cut on your head as he stood up.

“I’ll go see if your clothes are ready,” he said softly, a strange, contemplative look in his eyes.

You still wondered why he had taken them to wash in the first place. Why did he care? Perhaps he had wanted to get you into that dress to parade around in front of Elliot should he refuse to do the job? Knowing this man’s motives seemed impossible.

Alone in the room, your mind drifted back to the fight you’d had with Elliot. It still made you feel uncomfortable that he had seen the whole of your electronic life, but weighing that against everything else made it seem almost insignificant. The way he had protected you from various threats, the way he held you, let you in, trusted you. Wasn’t that what truly mattered? And even now he was going against everything he believed in just to make sure you weren’t harmed. Your stomach ached with the knot that twisted in your gut. You just wanted to see him again, to hear his voice. Who knew if Tyrell would keep his promise either. He could kill one or both of you at the end of this if he wanted to. Looking around the lavish apartment, it seemed like he would have enough resources for that not to be a problem. And he certainly had the stomach, even the taste for it.

Tyrell walked back in with your clothes folded in a pile in his arms. They didn’t look any worse for wear, and you wondered how much blood he had had to wash off of them.

He waited patiently after he handed them to you, waiting for you to get dressed. Not that you had to do anything other than pull them on, but you didn’t want him looking at you while you did that. Or anything, really.

Taking the hint, he sighed and turned around. You slid on the shirt and jeans you’d worn to work, taking in the smell of the detergent he used. Your ribs ached at the movements you did to get into your shirt, and you grimaced. He turned back when he heard you stop moving around and smiled a bit.

His phone rang, and your heart lept, wondering if Elliot had completed his job. Tyrell picked up and waited for the person to speak.

“No, I’ll bring her to you,” was all he said before hanging up. 

Tyrell looked triumphant as he smiled at you. You stood up, assuming you were the person he was referring to.

“Time to go,” he said playfully, gesturing to the open doorway.

Your heart beat wildly in your chest as you exited the room. The apartment was even nicer than the bedroom. You didn’t have time to admire every expensive item as Tyrell herded you down the hallway and out the front door. Outside was a very expensive looking car, and Tyrell opened the passenger door for you. You hesitantly entered it, scared of being in a small space with him. He got in the other side, turned on the car, and sped off. You drove for what felt like hours in silence. Really, only about thirty minutes had passed before you pulled into an abandoned lot. There was no one around, save for a lone man in a hoodie standing by the broken chain-linked fence that surrounded the lot. 

You had to stop yourself from vaulting out of the moving car and running straight for him. Tyrell took forever to slow to a stop, and made a show of taking his time to get out. You followed, finding your heart had perched in your throat. Elliot walked towards the two of you with a mask of indifference. You met like some old western showdown in the center of the space between you. A few feet from Elliot, you could now see the desperation in his eyes despite the coolness of his features.

“A deal’s a deal,” Tyrell shrugged, gently nudging you forward with a push on the small of your back.

You walked towards Elliot, unsure if you should hug him, kiss him, or slap him. His eyes were bloodshot, red around the edges. Had he been crying? Something told you it was some other reason. You opted for walking to his side and turning to face Tyrell. The man was staring at the two of you with a cool smile on his face.

“Thanks for the help,” he said, as if it had been a voluntary favor.

Elliot merely blinked at him and swallowed, his inner monologue nearly screaming his anger through his eyes. You weren’t sure Tyrell noticed. You found your hand migrating to Elliot’s of its own volition. He accepted it and you felt his hand was sweaty, and trembling.

Tyrell took one more look at you and got back into his car, driving off to leave the two of you alone. Once he left, there was only the sound of the wind. Turning to Elliot, you noticed his pupils were huge despite the glaring sun. Your mind flashed back to the morphine that had been in his drawer. Was he high right now?

You dropped his hand and pulled back, taking a few steps to separate you from him.

“I’m sorry,” he said defeatedly. 

You hugged your arms around yourself, trying so hard not to cave and run to him.

“Are you… high right now?” you asked.

Not that you would have judged him under normal circumstances. You were prone to a little drug use here and there as well but… he had said he was quitting, not to mention the fact that he’d gotten out of his head while you were in danger.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated again, his voice breaking this time. “I’m coming down now. I have Suboxone so…” he trailed off, knowing that this was not enough of an explanation.

“Why?” you asked. “I could have been killed and you were--”

“I know that!” Elliot nearly screamed. 

Perhaps he and Tyrell weren’t so different after all. The usually externally dormant inner rage seemed to be exposed with the drug use. Perhaps that was why he had stopped using.

He checked himself, realizing he had said that out loud.

“I know that,” he repeated, almost to himself. “And that’s why,” he said.

He had gotten high because he was scared. Whatever he was feeling was too much to handle so he had turned to drugs.

You took a step towards him and brushed your hand against his cheek.

“Thank you,” you said softly. His eyes flicked to yours. “Thank you for saving me.”

His shoulders relaxed and he slipped off his hood. 

“Come on,” you said, knowing you couldn’t hash this all out in an abandoned lot.

You walked to a main road and hailed a cab, riding back to your building. You followed him into his apartment and closed the door behind you. 

The place was a mess. The nightstand drawer had been ripped out and thrown to the floor, the plastic bag nearly drained of its opioid contents. The bed’s sheets were strewn everywhere, and post it notes covered the desk and screens. Notes to himself written in a language you didn’t have access to.

Elliot sat down on the bed and put his head in his hands. You sat down next to him, taking a deep breath and trying not to think about how much Elliot had gone through in this whole ordeal. Not only had he been so terrified and panicked, he turned to illicit substances, he’d gone against everything he believed in just for the chance of saving you.

“What did you have to do to save me?” you asked, your voice sounding foreign to you.

He lifted his head and looked up at the ceiling.

“Bad things,” he said. 

You swallowed hard, feeling the sobs building in your chest from the terror and sorrow you’d been holding in. 

“I’m sorry,” you heard yourself say, as your voice broke.

You cried. You cried for the panic of being kidnapped, for the dread of never seeing Elliot again, for the guilt you felt for what he had to do to save you, for the anger you felt towards him and Tyrell for this happening at all.

You felt the hot tears on your cheeks, followed by cool fingers that brushed them away. Looking up, you saw Elliot looking at you with clear eyes. He seemed to have recovered more in the time it took you to get home.

You sniffled and tried to stop the flow of tears.

“I’m sorry,” he echoed. “It was my fault.”

You didn’t argue. But it wasn’t as though you had stayed away once you knew what kind of danger there was either.

“What did you have to do?” you asked, wondering if he would even tell you.

He sighed, biting his lip for a moment before answering.

“Tyrell was in a position to be CTO of Evil Corp, but he got passed over. He wanted me to infiltrate the system, hack the guy they want to be CTO, and ruin him,” he said. 

“So you helped him get a promotion?” you confirmed. That didn’t sound so bad.

“Yeah,” Elliot said. 

“And that’s worse than just some other dude?” you asked.

“Yes,” Elliot responded gravely. You wondered what he’d found on Tyrell that had influenced such a definite answer.

You looked down at your hands and tried to gather your thoughts.

“I know what it meant for you to help him,” you said sheepishly. “You didn’t have to do it for me. I would have figured something out,” you lied.

Elliot leaned forward, brushing his lips against the skin of your neck. Goosebumps rose in his wake, and the familiar feeling of coming home rose in your chest.

“When he took you… When I just _watched_ _him_ take you… I lost it,” he whispered.

These were thoughts that he was sharing willingly with you. That inner dialogue that he kept so close to his heart, jammed up there in his head. He was letting you in, as a friend, as a lover, as… something more.

“I knew I would do whatever it took to get you back because… I can’t function without you. Before you, I had those,” he gestured vaguely to the remains of the morphine he had cut up. “But with you, I didn’t need them. And when you left… When you were  _ taken,” _ he corrected himself. “It was like my operating system just shut down. Morphine was the only way to reboot in order to get back to you.”

You smiled softly at his analogy, knowing it comforted him to think of his brain in that way.

“And now that I am back?” you asked, turning to him to see his eyes wide, wondering.

He moved his hand slowly to cover yours and you cupped his face with your other hand.

“Are you…  _ back _ ?” he asked. 

You knew what he meant. Had you forgiven for something he’d done before he knew you? Had you forgiven him for putting you in danger, for resorting back to drugs?

“I’m back,” you said, pulling his face to yours and kissing his lips gently. Oh, how you missed that sweet taste of him. It felt like breathing in fresh air.

With that answer, he pulled you to him, twirling you around on the bed until you were underneath him. He ravished your mouth and neck with passionate kisses. He made love to you as though you were a goddess he worshiped. 

When you lay in each other's arms after, a thought occurred.

“Are you going to try to undo what you’ve done for Tyrell?” you asked.

“I have an idea or two,” he said, a hint of a smile on his lips. “But I’ll need to build something first.”   
“What?” you asked.

“A society,” he answered. 

**Author's Note:**

> sorry if the lingo surrounding the pot was weird, I don't really do any drugs so I just guessed at the vernacular! will be updating soon!


End file.
